


The Road to Salvation Was Always You

by Ryukin



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Lust, M/M, Murder Mystery, Road Trips, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 123,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryukin/pseuds/Ryukin
Summary: A string of murders and missing brains has led Sylar to Mohinder’s doorstep asking for help clearing his name. Together, will they find the true culprit? Together, will they overcome their past? Miles and miles of road lies ahead of them but will teaming up bring them together or rip them each apart?





	1. Chapter 1

The monotonous clicks of the pricing gun in his hand drowned the din of the small shop into the back of Mohinder’s mind. Every moment. Click. Every day. Click. The same people. Click. The same needs.

 

He shook his hair from his eyes and looked up as a woman reached out, placing a hand on the bagged snacks he was pricing.

 

“Excuse me,” he said, “What can I help you with?” 

 

He sidestepped back to the register to ring her order. As he pulled gum, cigarettes and lotto tickets from the case under the register, Mouse jumped up gracefully next to him and batted the woman's change across the glass. Mohinder shooed him away. The woman left the tiny store and Mohinder was alone again. 

 

Click. Click. 

 

The television was on in the corner but silent, the news casting a gentle light show across the cluttered room. 

 

The slightly stale but freshly priced snacks were stuffed into the glass case's empty hole over the Hersheys, rolling papers and belt buckles.  

 

Not for the first time, Mohinder had to shut his eyes and sigh at the chaos. He was by no means a neat person, but the hodgepodge sundries he peddled gave him a headache. 

 

The door bell dinged and his headache thumped as the soda vendor wheeling a full cart in parked between a box of umbrellas and a rack of bread. Barely in the door and he was already motioning for Mohinder to hurry and check his product in. This man thought his time was worth gold and wasn't shy about letting everyone know. 

 

Two giggling students walked in as Mohinder grabbed the scan gun. They ran to the register, nudging each other with shoulders and elbows as they poared over the candy display. 

 

“C’mon, man, ain't got all day!” the vendor threw his hands in the air. 

 

“You can wait thirty seconds,” Mohinder shut him down. 

 

“Ummm .... how much is that one?” the shorter girl asked with a vague hand wave at the display. And so the game begins anew. 

 

“Or more …” Mohinder muttered as he bent and started the guessing game of what’s in the case. The game that never got old. He leaned down and touched along the edge of each candy bar until the girl stopped him. He heard the door bell again and saw a tall man enter from the corner of his eye. 

 

“Not that one, how about that one?” A head nod for direction this time as the girl's hands were busy fiddling with her backpack straps. Her friend just stared at Mohinder and rocked back and forth, hitting her friend with every swing. 

 

One good smack of his head on the glass countertop and Mohinder could end this nightmare. 

 

The vendor started yelling at the girls and the tall one turned and yelled back. Mohinder was still playing what's in the case. The newcomer was greeted by Mouse’s tiny meow as he leaped on top of the newspapers and pushed his head into the man's hand. He was given a thorough petting. 

 

Finally landing on the right candy, Mohinder waited as the girl dug to the bottom of her bag for change. From the sound of it, it was pennies. That was the kind of day he was having, what else could he expect? 

 

The momentary silence between hurled insults was broken by a single syllable, quiet and forceful. “Leave.”

 

Without thought, the schoolgirls and pissy vendor turned heel and left the bodega. Mouse snagged the remaining man's hand and directed it to his side, not done with being pet. 

 

Mohinder looked up slowly, saw the cat, saw the hand stroking him easily, saw the long black coat slightly too warm for the early afternoon, and saw Sylar’s stoic face. And why wouldn't he? That was the kind of day he was having. 

 

Mohinder huffed a heavy exhale and couldn't breathe in. 

 

Sylar’s hand left the cat and the cat left his post on the newspapers, one of which Sylar grabbed as he weaved his way through the stacked boxes and half-broken displays. He stood on the customer side of the counter, eyes heavy as they bored into Mohinder’s. 

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar purred in greeting. Mohinder found his lungs and sucked air in, silent except for his ragged breaths. “I was looking for you.”

 

Mouse, oblivious to the tension heavy in the air, took his spot on the register back and Sylar’s hand again stroked through his fur. 

 

“What on earth are you doing  _ here _ ?” he asked, head shaking to the side in emphasis as a look of distaste crossed his face. 

 

Mohinder’s throat was dry as he answered. “Hiding.” He coughed once. “From you.”

 

With a grin and a flamboyant wave of his hands, Sylar retorted, “And yet here I found you.”

 

“Why?” he sighed. 

 

Sylar placed the newspaper he had been holding down, the front page headline facing Mohinder. 

 

MURDER THROUGH THE BURROUGHS - FIFTH BODY DISCOVERED WITHOUT BRAIN

 

Mohinder snapped his head back up to meet Sylar's eyes. 

 

Sylar rested his hands over the article and leaned over the counter. Mohinder forgot how to breathe again. “I need your help, Mohinder.”

 

Mohinder should have expected that.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why would I help you?”

 

“I'm being framed,” Sylar sighed. “Read the article and I'll fill in the blanks.”

 

Mohinder stared, incredulous. Sylar's brows threaded together and he glanced down at the paper and back to Mohinder. “Please?” he asked as his face relaxed into placidity again. 

 

He spent all day in the tiny bodega, closed himself off from the outside world as he hid, from Sylar, from Primatech and the Company and the government. From everyone who saw ‘special’ as a threat. He payed little attention to the news after Claire had leapt into infamy and placed a target on all their backs. It all just made him paranoid. 

 

But since it was so abruptly brought to his attention … he could not deny his interest. He always did need to know too much. 

 

Sylar was still pleading with silent eyes, body loose, no threat of violence projected. But Mohinder had seen the man flip the switch between calm and manic so many times. He kept his eyes on the man's face as he reached for the paper. 

 

A small grin crossed Sylar's face. “Thank you.” He turned away calling again to the cat. Mouse leapt into his arms and together they turned to wander amongst the junk and food stuffs in the store. Mouse's purr was the only sound. 

 

Mohinder, still wary, turned an eye to the newspaper and started reading. He turned his body as Sylar moved about the store. It's a slow turn, as the bodega is roughly the size of a walk-in closet in any American city except New York. 

 

In scanning the article, he learned that state police had indeed found a fifth corpse in the city, one in each borough, all with their skulls sliced open with precision and brains missing. He glanced up at the only serial killer he knew personally with that M.O. . Said killer was the picture of innocence with the cat cradled in the crook of his arm, mindlessly petting as he perused the magazine selection, finding nothing of interest between the glossy pages of weed culture, chopper rags, and not-so-tasteful nude pinups.

 

The door bell rang as a customer set one foot in, but with a casual wave of Sylar's hand, the foot retreated and the door shut again on the two of them. Sylar continued petting; Mohinder continued reading. 

 

The New York murders were just the latest in a string leading up the coast from Tennessee. All victims were powered, or as the reporter wrote, ‘evos'; skulls removed, and brains missing. Some scenes had evidence of a violent struggle, some were mere body dumps. 

 

Halfway through the article, Mohinder crossed Sylar's name and he dropped the paper to the counter. “They know it's you.”

 

“ _ Someone  _ knows how I used to … access powers. And they have personally placed a target on me.” He turned back to Mohinder and placed Mouse on the counter. “I don't do that anymore. I don't need to.”

 

Mohinder glared. Sylar continued, “I'm a hero. I do not hurt people.” Mohinder remained unconvinced. Sylar sighed, “... Anymore.”

 

The headache returned with the pounding of his pulse. He threw the paper back toward Sylar, the fluttering pages annoying Mouse away with a squeak. “And why should I believe anything you say?”

 

Sylar shrugged a shoulder. “You probably shouldn't. I'm just hoping you will. I need your help, Mohinder.”

 

Mohinder wrapped his hand around his temples and focused on breathing. “Why should I help you?” he mumbled into his palm. 

 

Sylar's hands fluttered and rested on the hem of his coat. He toyed with the edge, moving to fiddle with his sleeves. It was a habit Mohinder recognized from his time on the road with Sylar, then disguised as shy and nervous Zane Taylor. He also didn't meet Mohinder’s eyes as he answered, “You're the only one I trust.”

 

The admission took Mohinder by surprise. He was glad Sylar was looking down, he couldn't keep his face straight. He cleared his throat and shook his head. Sylar glanced up through his eyelashes. 

 

“I don't know how I can help you.”

 

Sylar smiled, sweet and slow, and blinked. Mohinder would not fall for any coy tactics. 

 

In a blink, Sylar was standing upright, arms crossing and one hip resting on the counter. “I've been following these murders for months. Whoever is doing it has been moving north, but I don't think they're stopping here. I think there's this many killings in New York to attract attention. Someone is trying to flush me out.” He grinned. “You're not the only one hiding. I won't be anyone's lacky anymore. I will not be manipulated.” His voice grew harsh. “I need to make sure these murderers stop.”

 

“And I …?”

 

“See patterns. Find solutions. Help people.” Sylar again placed a hand on the counter and leaned toward Mohinder’s personal space. “Help me save the people that are being slaughtered in my name. Please, Mohinder. We don't need people hating us more.”

 

He was right. Since the presence of evolved humans had come out with the viral video of the century, they had been at odds with unpowered humans. There was hatred and fights and even lynchings before Mohinder had stopped listening to the news. The less bad press, the better. 

 

Hating himself more than a little, Mohinder asked, “What do I have to do?”


	3. Chapter 3

The latest victim had been found under an overpass fifteen minutes away. They both decided the first step in knowing anything would be found by starting there. After taping a hastily written sign to the door and locking the keys inside, Mohinder followed Sylar out. 

 

Sylar turned to read ‘I QUIT’ in Sharpie taped to the door. Mohinder watched him. As Sylar turned back to him, Mohinder gestured to the street. “Car?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “Don't have one. It died in the Virginias. The train here was nice, though.”

 

Mohinder breathed deep and rubbed a hand over his chin. He turned to the gated door next to the bodega, punched a code in the keypad, and stomped up the stairs. Sylar scrambled to follow. Three flights of stairs and Sylar found Mohinder opening a door about two feet away from each of its neighbors. They entered the tiny apartment and Sylar recognized the mess of books and scrawled notes on every surface. The dusty television in the corner had clothes draped on top. The bed was unmade and a kettle was left on the electric hot plate perched on top of thick texts. 

 

Sylar ran his hand down his face in exasperation, the mess itching under his skin. He picked up some lose papers and deciphered enough chicken scratch to see it was about evolved humans and the way their abilities manifested during a solar eclipse, a column of questions under the hypothesis showing the scientist was still searching to answer the whys and hows. Sylar grinned. 

 

He saw Mohinder shoulder deep in a large cardboard box and asked his back, “So is that your store?”

 

“No, I just run it,” was the muffled reply. “The owner has another and manages this building.” 

 

“Good,” Sylar growled. “Store smells like rat shit.”

 

A laugh escaped Mohinder’s mouth before he realized it. Sylar looked up at him and beamed a surprised smile. Mohinder coughed and straightened his face back to a near-scowl. 

 

Grin softening, Sylar continued, “You don't drive your father's cab anymore?”

 

“They knew.” Sylar assumed the worst, that everyone knew Mohinder’s side job. That any government agency could track him in the cab. “I traded it.” With that, he threw a helmet at Sylar, who caught it against his chest with a raised eyebrow. 

 

Back downstairs and in the alley next to the building, Sylar's eyebrows had yet to settle. “Yes, this is much less conspicuous.” His sarcasm was almost betrayed by awe. 

 

The late model Honda Mohinder was straddling was all bright yellow and shining engine. “I had one like it while I was in university.” They met eyes before Mohinder slid his helmet in place and kicked the motor over. He motioned his hand to the slip of seat behind him and, helmet in place and wool coat tucked tight under his legs, Sylar loosly wrapped hands around Mohinder’s waist.

 

Mohinder gunned the bike from the alley and Sylar will deny the alarmed noise he let out until his last day. 


	4. Chapter 4

Sylar's hands shook as he dismounted. Thrusting the helmet back at Mohinder, he muttered, “You’re a lunatic.”

 

Throwing his leg gracefully over the bike, Mohinder retorted, “I was a New York cabbie.” They walked together to the cluster of officers around the crime scene tape. “How are we doing this?”

 

Instead of answering, Sylar continued walking across the street and with dead confidence, drew his empty hand from his pocket and showed his open palm to the officers. “Agent Black. Agent White,” he motioned to Mohinder at his side. “We're on this now, catch us up.”

 

Mohinder stared at the man in disbelief as an officer scrambled to do just that. He pulled up the tape and allowed the two entry to the crime scene. 

 

“Officer Torres, agents. This way.” He lead them around a broken parking stop and over a patch of weeds at the edge of the lot. “Jogger and his dog found the body this morning. Around 5:30, 5:45. They cut through here every day to stay away from the camp -” he pointed to the far end of the parking lot, orange and blue tents peeking around cars by the sidewalk. “Too early for that shit, yeah. Over there agents.” He waved to the graffitied wall of the overpass. Mohinder took a step forward and was stopped by Officer Torres throwing a hand to his chest. “It's pretty gnarly.”

 

“Gnarly we can handle,” Sylar replied, moving Torres’ hand from Mohinder’s chest and reaching behind Mohinder to guide him forward with gentle fingers on his back. 

 

Mohinder shook him off and stalked forward unaided. 

 

He stopped when he saw an arm poking out from in the overgrowth. He raised a hand to his mouth when he spotted the rest of the body three feet away. 

 

“I don't claim to be an expert, but I am pretty well versed. And this is gnarly.” Sylar stood next to him, hands in his coat pickets. It wasn't cold, but Mohinder wished he had a jacket of his own to hide in. 

 

Sylar bent down close to the victim's head. As promised, the skull was removed and brain missing. 

 

Torres was sticking back. “Yup. As promised. Can't find the brain, we had dogs out before you got here.”

 

Sylar leaned closer, head cocked as he inspected the head wound. “And the jogger? His dog? No chance they could have … disturbed it?”

 

“No, man, guy said he saw a dead dude in the weeds and freaked, ran to a payphone.” 

 

Sylar looked up at that. “There's a payphone?” Mohinder rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah man, guy runs no-tech. Crazy. If I run, it's check in or it didn't happen.”

 

Sylar tuned him out and continued moving around the corpse. He glanced up at Mohinder and saw he was still studying the tags on the wall instead of the body. “No obvious defence wounds,” Sylar said quietly, directing Mohinder’s eyes down to meet his own. “It's like he was snuck up on.”

 

“Why then,” Mohinder waved to the disembodied limb. 

 

Sylar shook his head. “He was killed here. The blood -” he pointed to the arterial spray running parallel to the edge of the parking lot. Mohinder shuffled back further into the blacktop. “And this head,” he paused until Mohinder dragged his eyes back to meet his. Sylar nodded, “I've seen this before.” 

 

Mohinder squinted his eyes at Sylar and took another step back. Syler shot up and grabbed Mohinder’s arm. “Wait. Wait,” he turned to Officer Torres. “What's the time of death?”

 

“Rigor mortis had set in when the forensic pathologist arrived, she set the time of death at two AM.”

 

Sylar stepped in close to Mohinder. He spoke low. “My train got here at eight. Mohinder,” he sounded close to desperation. “I have my ticket, want to see it?” He reached into his pocket.

 

“No. No! I don't want to see anything from your pocket. I just saw you -” he gestured behind him. 

 

“Agents?” Torres took a step closer with a placating hand out. 

 

“I'm sorry, officer. It's been a hell of a morning so far,” Sylar offered a weak excuse. Torres’ expression showed how weak. Sylar smiled, hand still wrapped around Mohinder’s wrist. “Would you mind terribly getting us some coffee?”

 

“Oh yeah, agent, no problem,” Torres perked up. 

 

“A coffee and a tea, please,” Sylar asked, eyes still searching Mohinder’s. He saw the officer nod and turn to the coffee cart down the block. “Thank you!” he called to the man's back. 

 

“What are you doing? What the hell is that? Are you  _ persuading  _ him? Is that a new power, Sylar?”

 

Sylar smirked. “Would you believe it's just my natural charm?”

 

“No,” Mohinder monotoned, shaking off the hand circling his wrist. 

 

Sylar sighed. He shook his head. “It's not persuasion, per se. It's more … playing into people's expectations? The police expect other agencies to show up to high profile crime scenes, I was just providing.”

 

“What did you do with your hand?” Mohinder crossed his arms. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “They expected proper documentation, so that's what they thought they saw.”

 

“Because special agents always ride up on forty year old motorcycles. And look like us.”

 

Sylar looked over Mohinder’s delicately patterned button up and fitted slacks and smirked as Mohinder crossed his arms again. “As wonderful as your fashion sense is, darling, those are unimportant details. They just aren't pertinent so they don't register,” he explained with a shrug. “It's a useful power, but not without its … faults.” Torres had returned with two steaming paper cups. “Thank you,” Sylar said with emotion as he handed the tea to Mohinder and took a long drink of his own coffee. 

 

Torres had a cup of his own he gestured to the body with. “So what's the story?”

 

Sylar looked back at the corpse. “This is definitely connected to the others down the coast. There's been nine now, so far.” Mohinder raised his eyes to meet Sylar's over his cup. 

 

“Nine, gheeze. This is crazy shit.”

 

“Crazy shit it is, officer.”

 

Torres screwed his eyebrows together. “But where's the brains? It's so weird to be taking them.”

 

“Yes, Agent Black. What would  _ you _ do with the brains?” Mohinder pried. 

 

Sylar smiled sweetly. “Why, Agent White, I'd stuff them down a garbage disposal.”

 

Mohinder blanched and choked on his tea. Torres patted him on the back. 

 

Sylar reached in the inside breast pocket of his coat for a pen and piece of paper. 

 

Torres turned to him. “So these nine murders … how likely do you think they're connected to the ones from four years ago? There were murders all over the country, skulls sawed off and brains missing, just like this. There were like twenty of them but they stopped, I heard the culprit died but what if he didn't?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “Nothing was ever proven.” He slipped the paper be had written one into Torres’ pocket behind his badge. “And there were more than twenty,” he added with a wink. He patted the man's chest. “That's my personal phone number, the fastest way to get hold of us. Please, please call us if anything else comes up. We're going to see if anyone at the camp saw anything.”

 

Torres nodded. “Officers asked and got nothing, but yeah, I'll call if anything comes up.”

 

Sylar nodded in thanks and motioned for Mohinder to lead the way to the homeless encampment. 

 

Mohinder waved to a few people milling about, sorting through trash and clothes and feeding a couple dogs nibbles of food. “Good morning, I'm … Agent White. I have a few questions, I was wondering if anyone saw anything last night, a man was killed -”

 

He was cut off by one of the women shrieking as Sylar stopped next to Mohinder. She looked at him and screamed. 

 

Sylar threw his free hand in the air, “Ma’am, my name is Agent Black, we just have questions -” Her screaming became more insistent and she pointed at Sylar, waving hysterically. 

 

“Hey!” The police officers at the other end of the parking lot took notice. They started running over as Mohinder was desperately trying to calm the woman. 

 

“We have to go.” Sylar rested a hand on Mohinder’s shoulder. “Go now!” with a push, they both started running down the street, hot cups chucked toward the nearest trash can. They could hear the officers behind them and Sylar pushed at Mohinder’s back, urging him around a corner. He started to grip into his shirt though as Mohinder’s enhanced strength carried a burst of speed through his legs. “Wait!” he could feel Sylar's fingers slipping and heard the desperation in the word. Mohinder led him down a dark alley and pried a door open, reaching behind him and whipping Sylar through the doorway, pulling it closed behind them. 

 

They were in the tight back room of a bar, by the smell of it. All Mohinder could hear was Sylar's ragged breaths in his ear. He slammed a hand to the man's mouth, muffling him as he listened to the police rushing past the alley and down the street. He sighed as he lost them and moved his hand from Sylar's mouth. His breath ticked through his hair and Mohinder could not stop a shiver down his back. He started to push him away. 

 

“Hey, you can't be back here,” a female voice came from behind Sylar. Mohinder looked up at the other man. Sylar wrapped a large hand around Mohinder’s waist and up his back as he turned around. A young waitress with a tray of glasses stood in the doorway with a hip cocked. She shook a thumb over her shoulder. “Back to the bar, guys.”

 

“Sorry, miss,” Sylar looked sheepish as he guided Mohinder past, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

 

In the dim bar, Mohinder pushed Sylar away. Pushed maybe a little too hard, but he just watched the man stumble. “What the hell?” He straightened his shirt, messed up from Sylar's grabbing hands as they ran. 

 

Sylar merely shrugged. “Why else would we be back there? Had to act fast. Did you beak that door?”

 

“What? Yes.” Mohinder ran his hands through his hair. 

 

“Then let's go before someone notices.” He moved an arm toward Mohinder, who jumped, but Sylar simply swept his arm out in an ostentatious ‘after you’ gesture. 

 

Mohinder huffed and led them out, stopping to look for the police, and started back toward his parked bike. 

 

They walked in silence until Mohinder couldn't hold back his questions. 

 

“Why was that woman screaming at you?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe she did see something. Maybe the killer looks similar to me?”

 

“What a coincidence that would be.”

 

“I told you I got in at eight this morning, hours after that man was killed. His arm was ripped off with brute force, something  _ I  _ can't do, Mohinder.” He stopped in front of Mohinder and glared. “I do  _ not  _ kill people. I've … learned not to.”

 

“Congratulations.” Mohinder ducked around Sylar and continued down the street. People pushed all around them. Lunch rush had begun in the city. 

 

Mohinder stopped and turned around. “What am I doing? I was hiding for years, I was okay, and you come in and ask for help and why did I give up my life for that?” He shoved Sylar's chest. “Why did I give my life up for you?” He spun around and continued walking. “I've gone insane,” he shook his head. 

 

“Do you want to go back to the shop? Your pathetic apartment? Is there anything in your life holding you there?” Sylar was getting angry. 

 

So was Mohinder. “No! No to it all. Why not poke dead bodies with you? Chase someone that might not be there? What else do I have to do?” People around him were starting to stare. “What?!”

 

Sylar forced him forward and spun him around, back hitting a wall. He leaned into his face and ordered him to stop with a growl. “You need to stop now. I know this is crazy, I shouldn't have come to you. I'm sorry for that. I really am, but I had no one else to turn to. I'm lost. I can't … I can't lose my shit, people lose their lives if I do that. So while I appreciate your freak out, it's not helping you or me right now. Let's figure this out. Back to your apartment? Please?” He leaned a hand on the wall by Mohinder’s shoulder and waited for the man to nod. 

 

“Are we cool?” Sylar asked. 

 

“No.” Mohinder shook his head. “Let's go.”

 

Sylar stared at him. And jumped as his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and answered, “What?”

 

Mohinder watched him listen. Sylar pushed back from the wall and looked at his watch. “That was fast.” He nodded like the person on the other end could see. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I appreciate it.” He turned the phone off and slid it back in his pocket. Looking back at Mohinder, he said, “There's been another murder.”


	5. Chapter 5

“In Cincinnati.”

 

“Excuse me?” Mohinder bristled. “We just left a crime scene, how can there be a new one already? In  _ Ohio _ ?”

 

Sylar glanced at his watch again. “Torres said it was just called in. How long do you think it takes to drive there? It's after noon now, he's had ten hours.” He looked up at Mohinder. “A woman was killed on the riverfront, in the middle of the day. Brain removed. Her husband IDed the body, said she was evolved. This is the next murder. I have to go.” He watched Mohinder with wide eyes. He asked softly, “Are you coming with me?” 

 

Mohinder turned and walked away. He unlocked and sat on his bike, looking down at the helmet in his lap. Sylar's was hanging from the handlebar still.  Sylar stood awkwardly next to him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Mohinder asked, “Are you really traveling with nothing? No bag?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “It's in a locker at the Amtrak.”

 

Mohinder nodded and handed him his helmet. “I guess we're going to need a car,” he patted the bike's yellow gas tank. A slow smile crossed Sylar's face as Mohinder stood and kicked the starter down with a strong leg. Sylar rushed to get on, less shy about grabbing on after he had found out how Mohinder rode. 

 

They were on the right side of town to swing by the train station. Sylar emptied his locker of one lonely duffel bag and they ride to a used car lot where Mohinder was able to trade his bike for a crappy old Volvo. Sylar sat on the hood of the car people watching while Mohinder did the paperwork. Spring was definitely heating up so he took off his coat and dozed sitting up, warm sun on his face and arms. 

 

He woke up when Mohinder slapped the car’s hood next to him. Mohinder slid into the driver's seat and Sylar placed his bag and jacket in the back. He folded awkwardly ing the front seat, pushing the seat all the way back to stretch out his long legs. Mohinder was starting. Sylar shrugged a shoulder at him. 

 

“I really liked that bike.”

 

Sylar laughed and Mohinder drove. 

 

Packing his apartment was easy - a bag of clothes and toiletries and his laptop and he was stomping back downstairs. 

 

Sylar asked behind him, “What about your books? Your notes?”

 

Mohinder patted the bag at his hip. “I have everything scanned. Plenty of down time at the shop.” Back in the car, he continued, “I've been prepared to run this whole time.”

 

Sylar stared at him. “Well let's go then,” he leaned the seat back and threw his legs up on the dash. “Before you come back to your senses.”

 

So they left.


	6. Chapter 6

They drove in silence for hours. Sylar watched intently as Mohinder shifted gears and balanced the clutch. 

 

As the sun started to set, Sylar was getting restless. He turned the radio on and changed it to every station, trying to gauge Mohinder’s reaction. He wasn't getting anything from him so he found a classic rock station and kept it low, tapping out the drumbeat on the door. He played on his phone. From the amount of tapping, Mohinder figured he was either texting and getting no responses or running Google searches. Eventually, he put the phone down and just stared out the window at the passing night. 

 

Mohinder glanced over at him. “Want to roll the window down and stick your head out?”

 

Sylar sounded distracted as he answered, “No, it's cold outside.” He tapped his fingers against the window. “Let's stop for a minute.” They had crossed into Pennsylvania a few hours ago and Mohinder could use a moment to stretch his legs. He pulled into a gas station and watched Sylar unfold. “Are you hungry?”

 

Mohinder shrugged. “I'll be fine.” He watched Sylar enter the store and walk to the bathroom in the back. He got out of the car and stretched, walking around it. He saw Sylar's things in the backseat, coat layed out neat on top of his bag. Mohinder looked back at the store and didn't see Sylar. He quickly opened the door and dug in the costs pockets. He found a thick folded paper and shook it open.

 

It was a train ticket from Richmond to Manhattan from today, arrival time 7:57 AM. 

 

Mohinder let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Turning back, he still didn't see Sylar. He put the ticket and coat back, slamming the door and walking to the store. Sylar was exiting the restroom and grinned as Mohinder brushed past him and locked the door. 

 

He did his business and stared at his reflection as he washed his hands. He looked exhausted. He passed Sylar again as he went back to the car. 

 

Sylar was surprised to see Mohinder in the passenger seat but slid into the driver's, pushing it back a couple clicks. He set the store bag on the floor by Mohinder’s feet. “Whatever you like,” he gestured. Mohinder nodded his appreciation. 

 

Sylar waved his fingers over the steering wheel before gripping with one hand and turning the key. Nothing happened. 

 

Sighing, Mohinder asked, “Can you even drive standard?”

 

“No time like the present to start.”

 

“I can -” Mohinder unbuckled but Sylar waved him down. 

 

“I watched you and read up on how manual transmissions work, I have this.” He turned to Mohinder and winked. “It's kind of what I do.”

 

Mohinder stared and buckled his seatbelt again. “Engage the clutch.”

 

Pressing his left foot to the floor, he tried the ignition again, turning the car over and shifted smoothly into first. His shift into second jerked the car and Mohinder glared. Back on the highway, Sylar shifted smoothly to fifth and set cruise control on the empty road. 

 

He turned to Mohinder with a cocky smile. 

 

Mohinder huffed. “Just don't kill me.” He tilted the seat back and shut his eyes. He fell asleep listening to Sylar tap out the beat of a Stones song against the steering wheel. 


	7. Chapter 7

Mohinder woke with the sun in his face and his back screaming. He was in the front seat of the Volvo, warm in the sun and under Sylar's coat. He pulled the coat tighter around his shoulders and tried to go back to sleep. The coat smelled like sage leaves. 

 

He rolled his head to the side and saw the empty driver's seat. He signed and shifted his body, trying to get feeling back in his limbs. Served him right, getting abandoned in the fucking Midwest. Getting in the car with a serial killer. 

 

He got out of the car and was hit with the morning chill. He was holding Sylar's coat and shrugged it on after a moment. It was tight across his shoulders. Sylar was such an imposing man it was hard to notice how slight he actually was. 

 

He turned and saw Sylar layed out in the back seat, all lose limbs - back flat, arms over his head, legs tucked to the side. 

 

Well, at least he wasn't abandoned in the fucking Midwest. 

 

They were parked in the corner of a quiet road stop, overlooking a large city. He could hear the freeway behind him. 

 

His stomach rumbled loud. He jumped as an apple floated into view. He grabbed it and turned to see Sylar leaning against the car, still all easy lose limbs as he stretched. 

 

Mohinder was stricken, not for the first time, with how beautiful the man was. He looked away and asked “Where are we?”

 

Sylar thrust his chin to the city below them. “That's Cincinnati. We're going to the river.”

 

Mohinder nodded as he saw the water sparkling in the sunrise. He ate his apple. He turned around and saw Sylar's dark eyes on him. Ducking his head, he walked past to a trashcan. His back sent a sharp pain down to his hips and he stopped to stretch. 

 

“You ok, old man?” Sylar grinned. Mohinder glared and Sylar laughed. He grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag and crossed the parking lot to the restroom. Mohinder put his coat back in the car and followed suit. 

 

They met again at the sinks. Sylar watched him in the mirror. Mohinder looked down and ignored him. 

 

As he rinsed his mouth, he felt Sylar pull him up by the shoulder and turn him around. He ran his hands through Mohinder’s hair, trying to fluff up the spots flattened from sleeping. His minty breath hung between them as he hummed, turning Mohinder’s head and raking his fingers softly against his scalp. 

 

“Stop,” Mohinder pushed him away and left. He heard the tap behind him turn on as he shook his head, trying to erase the feeling of hands on him. He opened the trunk and shook out a fresh shirt, pulling the wrinkled one off and buttoning the fresh one as Sylar arrived back at the car, hair slicked back and the neckline of his white tee shirt damp. 

 

Mohinder sat in the driver's seat and readjusted everything. Sylar put his coat on and pulled it close, flipping the collar up as he sat down. 

 

“Where are we going?” Mohinder asked, backing the car out and leaving the rest stop.  

“Hmm? Oh, you drive, I navigate.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and started giving directions. He kept his jacket up around his chin until they pulled up to the crime scene on the river. 

 

There was no one there that early, just blockades and caution tape. 

 

They ducked under the tape and surveyed the scene. Blood had pooled on the sidewalk by a wall. No secondary sprays, no signs of a struggle. Mohinder looked around as Sylar knelt and touched the sidewalk by the blood stain. 

 

They were next to a construction site, large machines parked behind a chain link fence. Slabs of concrete were piled next to the wall. 

Graffiti littered the wall behind Sylar, stretching as far as Mohinder could see. He stared at it, but still could not bring himself to see art in the defacing of public property. 

 

Back by Sylar's side, he waited for the man to stand as well. 

 

Mohinder turned to look at the still river. “Do you think this person does what you do?” he turned to Sylar. “What you did?”

 

Sylar was silent. Mohinder thought he had crossed a line. “I don't know. This power? It's hereditary, you know. My father - my real father. He had the same power.” Sylar spoke low and hesitantly. 

 

Mohinder looked up at him. “I didn't knew you were adopted.”

 

Sylar swallowed. “I was sold. My father -” his voice cracked. “Two people he should have loved more than anything. He killed my mother and he sold me.”

 

“Sylar …” but he didn't know what to say. 

 

Sylar swiped a hand down his face. “I will not become him.”

 

He shrugged deeper into his coat and turned away. “I need - I'm taking a walk. I'll be back soon.”

 

Mohinder watched him stalk away. “Okay.” He leaned against the wall. “I'll just be here, then.”


	8. Chapter 8

Mohinder was sitting on the low wall watching too many boats try to launch at once. He had an empty paper cup in his hands and one next to him. He saw Sylar walking along the river towards him but didn't turn. 

 

Sylar leaned on the wall and looked out on the water. 

 

“I got you a coffee.”

 

Sylar sighed and pickled up the cup by Mohinder’s hand. “Thank you.”

 

Mohinder waited until it was to his mouth and continued, “An hour ago.” He grinned at Sylar's grimace. 

 

“Still, thank you.” He continued to drink the tepid coffee. 

 

“Good walk?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Mohinder finally turned to him. Sylar looked lost, staring at the water. 

 

The silence stretched until a child and mother ran in front of them down the riverwalk, the child squealing at birds. 

 

“Come look at this,” Mohinder said, jumping down and following the two. They could see the crime scene again, and the mother wrangling her kid away from it. “Here,” Mohinder nudged a can of spray paint by the wall with his toe. “You can still smell it.”

 

Sylar crouched down and wrinkled his nose. “Worse down here.” He looked up at the wall and saw the fresh red paint sprayed over older faded paintings. In stylized graffiti printing, it said ‘ggixa’. He picked up the paint can and looked close at it, head tilted. 

 

“Oh!” He stood up and held the can out. “Whoever used this was here when the murder happened. Or right after.”

 

“How do you know?” 

 

Sylar shook the can gently. He explained, “I can see it … ability I picked up. I can't see a timeline but I can see memories, feel memories, on things. I don't know who was out here with this, but they saw the body, blood was pooling still. They painted this,” he pointed to the red graffiti, “And this.”

 

He stood and took a couple steps closer to the barricades. He bent down again and searched along the bottom edge and found a small red S with a crown design floating over it. 

 

He looked back at Mohinder, who was slowly walking to him and kneeling. He placed a hand by the S and asked with wonder, “What can't you do?”

 

“Plenty. But the world is my oyster.” Sylar stood. 

 

“What happened to not killing?”

 

Sylar smiled down at him and pulled on a curl by his ear. “Don't need to.”

 

Mohinder shook Sylar off. “Anyway.” He stood. “I took some pictures.” He flipped his phone open and Sylar laughed. 

 

“What is that? Is it 2004? I'll get it,” He snapped pictures of the graffiti with his own phone - a fancy touchscreen number. He also took pictures of the rattle can and the crime scene as they reached the caution tape. He turned to Mohinder. “Good idea, though. Breakfast?”

 

Turning from the blood stain, Mohinder grumped, “What?”

 

“It's still before business hours, so the coroner won't be expecting investigators yet. That apple won't hold you forever, let's kill time.”

 

They walked quietly side by side back to the car. The silence followed them to the parking lot of a small diner. Before they got out, Mohinder said, looking at the steering wheel, “I'm sorry.”

 

Sylar sighed. “You didn't do anything. Don't apologize.”

 

Mohinder wanted to argue but turned to him and nodded. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sylar used the same trick to get into the autopsy room. The cold stale lab air was a comfort to Mohinder but the corpse on the table made his skin crawl. 

 

She had been examined the evening prior and no substantial evidence was found. No defensive wounds, just her head sliced open and her brain removed. 

 

Sylar was talking in depth with the resident medical examiner while Mohinder tried not to think of empty skulls and brains in garbage disposals. 

 

“Agent.” Mohinder jumped when a hand touched his elbow. Sylar continued, “Doctor Wash is going to get the victim's effects so we can look them over.”

 

“Oh. Yes. Great.”

 

The time of death was early afternoon and the woman appeared to have been out on a lunch time run; her belongings were workout gear and an mp3 player. Sylar shook out her shirt and asked, “Doctor, could you get me a magnifying glass?”

 

“Sure,” Doctor Wash replied and turned to the other room to fetch it. Sylar watched him go and took off one of his latex exam gloves and ran the hem of the shirt between his fingers. His eyes lost focus and he tilted his head.

 

Looking up at Mohinder, he nodded and put his glove back on. 

 

The examiner came back with the magnifying glass which Sylar used, spreading the shirt out under the light.

 

“Look here, there's blood spatter by the neck. How was the skull removed?”

 

Wash shook his head. “There are no tool marks, we aren't sure. If this is connected to the East coast killings, that's consistent. No one has figured it out yet.”

 

“It's connected,” Sylar nodded. He set down the shirt and magnifying glass. “Also, there's some short black hairs on the back.”

 

“Yes, I've sent a sample to the lab.”

 

Removing his gloves, Sylar stuck out a hand. “Well, thank you for your time, Doctor.” Mohinder found his focus waning as they made their farewells. 

 

Walking back to the car, Mohinder couldn't help but ask, “Did you really put brains in the garbage disposal?”

 

“Do you really want to know?”

 

Mohinder fiddled with the car keys. He signed. “No.” Looking up, he saw Sylar trying to hold back a smile. His eyes were clear and happy again though, so Mohinder let it be. He tossed Sylar the keys. “I don't know where we're going.”

 

Sylar folded gracefully into the seat. “Neither do I. I've spent months on this guy's trail but I don't have any direction. I just wait until I hear about the next murder.”

 

“Months?” Mohinder asked. “How long between them?”

 

“Two months between first and second, five weeks, seven weeks, the New York murders were all done in two days, and this one same day, different state,” he counted off. 

 

“So you've been chasing a ghost for half a year?” When Sylar nodded, Mohinder snorted, “And I thought my life was boring.”

 

Sylar laughed too and started driving. Mohinder asked, “Where to?”

 

“To see what wonders Ohio holds.”


	10. Chapter 10

The first wonder of Ohio was, thankfully, a chain hotel. Mohinder near moaned in relief when they pulled in the parking lot. 

Sylar sounded a little incredulous when he asked if he was tired. 

“No, I honestly wasn't looking forward to another night in the car.”

“At least you had leg room.”

“Why didn't you put the seat down? It folds out.”

“It was just me back there.” He quirked an eyebrow, “Next time join me and we'll get comfortable.”

Mohinder rolled his eyes and turned to the window but he could feel his cheeks start to burn. 

Sylar parked and Mohinder grabbed their bags. He met up with Sylar at the front desk. 

“How many rooms?” the concierge was asking. 

“Two,” Mohinder piped in before Sylar could answer. 

“Two,” Sylar repeated with a forced smile. “And I'll be paying cash.”

“Sir, that's not -”

Sylar waved his hand. “I'll be paying cash, thank you.”

“Of course. I don't have any adjoining, but here are your room keys…”

Mohinder leaned toward Sylar, “I can get my room at least.” The concierge was still talking but they weren't paying attention. 

Sylar chuckled. “Really? That's sweet, but I doubt it. Judging from where I picked you up.” He smiled, a real smile. “It's no problem.”

Mohinder picked up his keycard. “Thanks,” he muttered. They jammed in the elevator with three other passengers. Sylar’s back was stiff.

Sylar took Mohinder’s card from his hand to get his room number. They stopped on the floor and Sylar walked him to his room. 

Mohinder was still carrying all their bags. Sylar reached in Mohinder’s front pocket, to his protest, and took out his phone. He rolled his eyes as he flipped it open but typed fast and put it back in Mohinder’s pocket. 

“Call me sometime,” he winked and took his bag from Mohinder’s shoulder. He turned back to the elevator and left Mohinder in the hall. 

Mohinder took the time before going out to shower and shake out his clothes. He didn't know how long they would be in the city so he didn't bother with hangers or drawers. It would be easier to repack in a hurry if all his things stayed in the armchair by the window. 

 

He sat on the bed and stared out the window. He was on the third floor so he couldn't see much. Sylar's room was a few floors above. 

 

He got caught up in his head staring out at the city. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he even there?

 

Before he could really berate himself, there was a knock at the door. Mohinder stood and fixed his damp hair in the mirror before meeting Sylar in the hall. 

 

Sylar had taken the afternoon to clean up as well, changing to black slacks and a grey shirt under his coat. He grinned at Mohinder and led him down the stairwell.

 

“What's the plan now?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “This is where I kill time. I did find some meet up groups online today that are evo only, I'll look if there's anything on the calender tonight.” He started tapping on his phone. 

 

“Yeah. Whatever that meant.”

 

“Means drinks are on me tonight.”

 

Mohinder could tell the night would get brisk but didn't want to go back up for a jacket. He shrugged his hands into his pockets and hoped his long sleeve shirt would be enough. 

 

“So how do you think this guy is choosing his victims?” Mohinder asked as they walked. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “He’s killed young and older people, but not kids. Some in broad daylight, some in dark corners at night. I can't see the pattern and it's driving me crazy,” he growled. 

 

“I used to ask around in these groups, see if anyone knew the victims or saw anyone suspicious, but even persuading people doesn't work when a city is on high alert for a killer.” He looked over at Mohinder. “Especially when it's people like us.”

 

They reached a bar and Sylar ushered Mohinder inside. 

 

It looked like any other bar Mohinder had been to, crowds by the bar and around high tabletops, people laughing and touching and drinking. 

 

It didn't look like a future crime scene. 

 

Sylar touched Mohinder’s elbow and asked if he wanted a drink. 

 

He nodded, “A beer, something, uh, not dark I guess?” He didn't drink beer often and wasn't quite sure what he liked. Sylar smiled and went to order. 

 

Mohinder walked around the bar, looking at the groups of people, friends and strangers and lovers mingling in the low light. There was a jukebox in one corner and a couple arcade games in another. 

 

The people all looked so … innocent. 

 

Sylar came back with two pint glasses in his hands; with an elbow, he steered Mohinder to an occupied table toward the back. The man at the table looked at them questioning. 

 

“It's a lovely night. Don't you want to go outside?” Sylar asked the couple as he sipped his beer. 

 

The woman turned her head and looked to the patio. “Yes, that sounds nice.” She grabbed their drinks from the table and the two headed out. “You two have a nice night.”

 

Sylar nodded his appreciation while Mohinder stared at him. 

 

Without looking at him, Sylar said, “You're going to have to get used to me using powers, Mohinder. As much as I love having you ogle.” His voice was light with amusement.

 

“I do not,” Mohinder grumbled. He drank his beer to have something to do with his hands. 

“You do,” Sylar grinned. “Since the first time I melted something for you.” His face softened and he looked at Mohinder from under his eyelashes. “It's intoxicating.”

 

Mohinder flushed and looked down at the table. 

 

“Drink okay?” Sylar asked. 

 

“Yeah, it's not bad.” He drank some more,actually enjoying the lightly bitter taste.

 

“Good. I asked for a recommendation.” 

 

They stood in silence and watched people around them. 

 

“I can't tell who's evolved and who's not,” Mohinder said quietly, leaning over the table. 

Sylar shook his head. “Everyone is keeping low profile since Claire outed us. I can't tell either.” He drained his beer and went back to the bar for more. Mohinder finished his own in silence. 

 

He looked up when Sylar set a fresh glass down in front of him. “So, how did you find  _ me _ ?”

 

Sylar shrugged a shoulder. “I had some help. Have you heard of Rebel?”

 

Mohinder snapped his head up. “Yes,” he said sharply. “Rebel helped you.” An incredulous statement, not a question. 

 

“Is that such a surprise?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Hmm. Maybe someone in Rebel’s ranks wanted to make sure you were safe.”

 

Mohinder gritted his teeth and bit his tongue. 

“I am not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. If you can't believe me, maybe you'll believe Miss Walker and her friends.” Sylar sounded tired. 

 

“Do not -” Mohinder smacked the table. “Just leave her alone.”

 

Sylar raised his hands in surrender. He nodded and lowered his hands slowly to the tabletop. 

 

Mohinder looked down at Sylar's hands. Quietly, he said “I don't think you're going to kill me.”

 

Sylar quirked his head. “I wish that were one hundred percent true, Mohinder.”

 

“I’m not afraid you're going to kill me.”

 

Sylar looked stricken. “I wish that wasn't true.”

 

Mohinder looked hard at him. “Can you tell when I am untruthful?”

 

Sylar grinned, crooked. “Yes, I can tell when you lie.”

 

Mohinder took a long drink. “Well, that's good to know.”

 

Sylar's head twitched to the side. “Yeah, it kinda tingles in the back of my head when you do that.”

 

“Hmm,” Mohinder hummed and drank. He looked around the room but didn't know what he was even looking for. 

 

Sylar looked around the room also before turning his eyes back. “So why'd I find you in a crappy little New York shop?”

 

Mohinder shrugged. “I couldn't leave, not after everything. And I couldn't get work with a warrant on my head. So I took the easiest thing I could, to kill time, to keep my head down. And I didn't care about anything, I could drop my life and run any time.” He drained half his glass. 

 

Sylar just looked at him. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I asked you to run and you did.”

 

“Don't read too much into it.”

 

“Mmmhmm.” Sylar hummed and walked around the table. He leaned into Mohinder’s side and said close to his ear, “I'm going to the jukebox to change this awful music. Any requests?”

 

Mohinder tensed where Sylar was resting against him. He was too warm. He shook his head and drank.

 

He watched Sylar walk through the crowd to the jukebox. 

 

His nice-guy attitude was throwing Mohinder through a loop.  

 

Hating Sylar was nothing new. That he could handle. Even with their mutual obsession and the attraction Mohinder had felt since they met. 

 

It was getting harder to hate the man already, and it had only been a day. Sylar had been nothing but pleasant. And flirty. 

 

That really threw Mohinder. 

 

He had always had the feeling Sylar was deciding what his skin tasted like when he stared, but Mohinder had chalked that up as projection. 

 

But now ... Mohinder shook his head. He glanced around the room, eyes landing on Sylar. 

 

Who was staring at him. And who smiled slowly when they met eyes. He looked like the boogeyman of old, tall and lean and dangerous. But his shy smile and hooded eyes were the same flirtatious persona he had had the whole last day. 

 

Hating Sylar wasn't the only thing getting harder. 

 

Mohinder turned around again and slammed his drink. 

 

Oh. Maybe two beers on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea. 

 

Maybe none of this was the best idea. 

 

And just maybe, Mohinder was starting not to care. 

 

The music changed and it had to be Sylar's choice spinning, melodic guitars after never-ending pop and hip hop hits. Something familiar and older than half the bar's patrons. 

Mohinder tapped his foot and looked around.

 

After side eyeing the pinball machine a few moments, Mohinder wandered over while Sylar was working his way through the crowd. Keep his hands busy. 

 

He hadn't played pinball in years, and was never any good anyway. 

 

Mohinder pulled back the lever on the machine and the ball flew up, around an obstacle, and straight down between the flappers. He signed and tried again. He heard Sylar stop behind him. 

 

Sylar watched him lose another ball and set his beer down beside the machine. As Mohinder was reaching for the pull lever again, Sylar swooped in and hit it with his hip, sending the ball up the tunnel. He wrapped himself around Mohinder’s back. 

 

Mohinder inhaled and held his breath as Sylar leaned close. “I'll show you how.”

 

He rested his hands on the edge of the pinball machine over where Mohinder’s were on the flippers’ buttons. As the ball rolled back down, Sylar ordered in his ear, “Left.” Mohinder hit the left button and smacked the ball with the flapper. It flew through a wire tunnel at the back of the machine and when it rolled halfway down, Sylar hit Mohinder’s ass with his hip, throwing him into the machine.  Mohinder gasped. 

 

Their bump knocked the ball back, hitting a different track and racking up points. 

 

Sylar's chest was flush against Mohinder’s back. “Right,” he said, lips brushing Mohinder’s ear. Mohinder hit the right button and Sylar's breath trailed against the back of his neck as he switched sides. He was braced better when Sylar bumped him again with his hip but he still connected solidly with the machine. He was half hard and let out a shaky exhale as he was rubbed against the edge.

 

Sylar held him against the game and continued to tell Mohinder which paddles to control. They kept the ball in play for more than a minute, bodies pressed together. Sylar jostled Mohinder forward again, pushing him to the balls of his feet and they watched the ball fly hard toward the back and knock down a target.

 

Mohinder wasn't paying attention as his points racked up on the digital screen over the game. His nerves were on fire and all he could feel was Sylar rocking and touching his hand gently as he stepped back. He turned over his shoulder and made eye contact. 

 

“That was good.” Sylar didn't drop his eyes as he bent to pick his drink up from the ground. Draining it, he shook the glass and raised an eyebrow to the bar, silently asking Mohinder if he wanted another. 

 

He very much did, so he nodded and watched Sylar walk away. 

 

With a deep breath, he turned back to the machine and tried to slyly adjust himself. 

 

What the hell was wrong with him? 


	11. Chapter 11

They finished their drinks as they watched the crowd. Mohinder could practically feel the heat coming off Sylar's body standing next to him. It was making it hard to think.

 

They hadn't seen anything of importance all evening and Mohinder was starting to get annoyed. He was feeling a little more inebriated than he had planned to get and his dick’s interest in the night's teasing hadn't waned at all. He had too much energy buzzing under his skin. Just standing around was definitely irritating.

 

“Are you okay?” Sylar nudged him with his shoulder.

 

Mohinder shrugged. “Yes. No. I don't know, I'm antsy I guess.” He tried to stay honest so he wouldn't set off the human lie detector. “I think I need to get some air.”

 

“I'll close the tab.”

 

Mohinder didn't look back as he walked out. The temperature had definitely dropped and goosebumps raised up his arms. He started walking down the street back toward the hotel.

 

He heard Sylar run up behind him, boots hitting the ground with solid thuds.

 

“Hey,” he put a hand on the small of Mohinder’s back when he caught up. “What's wrong with you?”

 

Mohinder laughed. “That's the question, isn't it? What _is_ wrong with me?”

 

“I didn't mean it like that.” Sylar sounded irritated as well. “Look Mohinder, I'm sorry-”

 

Shaking his head, Mohinder cut him off. “Don't. Please don't.” His head felt light from the beer. He shivered.

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar said quietly and took off his jacket. He draped it around Mohinder’s shoulders.

 

“Stop, it's cold,” he protested and shook the jacket off but Sylar insisted.

 

“Yeah. So wear the damn thing.”

 

Mohinder glared at him standing with his hands in his pockets glaring back. He put his arms in the coat and was wrapped in warmth and the earthy clean smell of sage leaves.

 

He felt his temper lessen. Sylar asked if he felt better.

 

“No.”

 

“Liar,” he grinned.

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes. “What are we doing?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “Hungry?”

 

He was so full with beer the thought of food didn't sit right. He grimaced and shook his head.

 

“Well, I don't think we're going to get anywhere tonight, so let's just ‘get some air,’ yeah?” Sylar turned and started down the street. It was Mohinder’s turn to catch up. He did with a casual bump to Sylar's arm.

 

Sylar turned and searched his face. Mohinder didn't know what he was looking for.

 

His mouth quirked up and he bumped Mohinder’s shoulder. In a much more companionable mood, they walked through the quiet streets.

 

“So did you see anything tonight?” Mohinder asked.

 

Sylar's shoulders were high covering his neck and his hands deep in his pockets. His bare arms were pale under the streetlights. “Nothing murder related.”

 

“Yeah. Tomorrow I need you to tell me the rest of what you know.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They kept walking until they were at the riverwalk. The crime scene was a few miles down, it was just calm water and twinkling boat lights where they were. The breeze was colder as they stood at the waters edge.

Sylar stamped his feet and shivered. Mohinder started to take off his coat to give it back but Sylar stopped him again.

 

“Knock it off, just wear it. Next time … just bring your own, idiot.” His voice was softer than his words.

 

Mohinder shuffled closer to him, pressing against his side, trying to share warmth. Sylar sighed quietly.

 

They stood and watched the lights dance on the water. Sylar wrapped an arm around Mohinder’s back and Mohinder leaned into him.

 

Mohinder’s face was numb from the cold and alcohol. His mind still felt fuzzy so he didn't think before he asked, “What do you want from me?”

 

Sylar looked down at him. Quietly, he answered, “There's nothing I want from you. I can think of plenty I want _with_ you but I have never wanted anything _from_ you.”

 

His eyes were intense. A shiver raced down Mohinder’s spine and ended in his groin. “Why am I here?”

 

“I asked you to be. You said yes. Everything else is yours to figure out. I figured my side out a long time ago. Had plenty of time to ruminate,” he said ruefully.

 

“You should tell me your side one day.”

 

“Mmm. Maybe.”

 

They stood in silence watching the water until Sylar caught a couple raindrops on his face.

 

“Oh shit.”

 

The wind picked up and more raindrops fell, making the river's light reflections sparkle.

 

“I think it's time to go,” Mohinder said. Sylar nodded and they started back to the hotel.

 

Mohinder hunched against the wind and rain but from the corner of his eye he could see Sylar stretching out his arms and turning his face up to the rain.

 

He turned and said, “You're crazy.”

 

Sylar flashed him a huge grin and reached out, pulling him close by the coat pockets. Mohinder caught himself, hands on Sylar's wet tee.

 

Sylar looked back up to the sky while Mohinder watched him.

 

Rain caught in his dark eyelashes. Mohinder wanted to kiss them free. He closed his eyes and felt the rain on his face.

 

He felt Sylar move his hands from his pockets to his cheeks. Eyes still closed, Mohinder felt Sylar's face near his, breath brushing against his cheek. “Thank you for coming with me. You have no idea what it means to me.”

 

“Tell me.” Mohinder didn't know if he was feeling bold or stupid, but Sylar's proximity was lowering his defenses. He balled his hands in Sylar's shirt.

 

Silence grew between them and Mohinder blinked open his eyes. Sylar still had one hand wrapped around his cheek and his mouth was open. He was so close they could have bumped noses.

 

Mohinder leaned into his touch, which coincidentally turned him from Sylar’s lips.

 

Sylar's breath staggered as he pulled away.

 

Mohinder followed his hand as he pulled it back.

 

“Sylar -”

 

“We should go,” his voice was soft.

 

“Sylar …” Mohinder started again unsure how to finish.

 

“Mohinder.” Sylar's voice was rougher, exaggerating his name's syllables. He ran his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth; Mohinder’s eyes followed the flash of pink. He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna finish that thought?”

 

And he couldn't. He had so many questions rattling around his brain he couldn't settle on one.

 

“Then we should go.”

 

Sylar turned and started walking away. Mohinder watched him walk around the corner. He ran after him.

 

He reached out a hand to grab at him, but pulled back. He fell in line walking side by side.

 

His pulse was racing. Sylar wasn't playing hot and cold but he was teasing and running away. Mohinder’s dick couldn't keep up with the whiplash. He breathed deep and tried to calm down.

 

They turned the corner of a tall bank building and the rain was so much harder. Sylar gasped at the cold.

 

Mohinder’s cheeks were ice.

 

“C’mon,” Sylar grabbed his arm. He started jogging, Mohinder keeping up easily as he gained speed.

 

Raindrops pelted steadily against their faces.

Sylar laughed and Mohinder looked at him like he was crazy. Sylar turned and ran backwards, grinning face pink with the cold.

 

“Wait!” Mohinder held up an arm -

 

Just as Sylar slammed backwards into a wall.

 

Mohinder’s outstretched hand hit the wall next to Sylar's arm not a moment later.

 

Sylar struggled to breathe again, the wind knocked free from his lungs. He quirked an eyebrow at Mohinder and smirked. Sylar's eyes flashed across his face, from eyes to mouth and back.

 

Mohinder stared wide eyed. Sylar's hair was falling to the side, shadowing his features. He had color high on his cheeks but the rest of his skin glowed in the dim light. He was soaked, wet clothes sticking to his body; his nipples were perked with cold and cock full under wet denim.

 

Mohinder wanted to sink to his knees on the sidewalk.

 

Sylar caught his breath and pushed off the wall, grazing Mohinder’s body with his own. He pulled himself up the extra inches he had on Mohinder and leaned over him.

 

Mohinder’s hand was still on the wall, trapping Sylar where he was. His fingers flexed, hungry to touch skin.

 

They stared at each other, neither moving. Mohinder shivered from the cold of the air and the heat of Sylar's eyes.

 

“We should go,” Sylar breathed.

 

Mohinder pushed off the wall and slowly stepped back. Sylar followed footstep for footstep. When he turned to walk the rest of the block to the hotel, Sylar followed with a hand to the small of his back.

 

Through the hotel lobby and into the elevator and Sylar was still right on him. Mohinder felt light headed.

 

Sylar walked him to his door. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, dark eyes never straying.

 

If he invited himself in, Mohinder would do anything he wanted.

 

Mohinder fumbled with the door keycard. “Well. Good night, Sylar.” Please come in.

 

“Good night, Mohinder,” he grinned. He rested his hand flat on Mohinder’s back right over his ass when he turned to open the door. He crowded Mohinder from behind.

 

Mohinder gasped when Sylar leaned close to his ear.

 

Please please please.

 

Sylar's lips brushed his ear and he felt the touch down to his toes. “May I have my coat?”

 

“Oh,” Mohinder started to shrug it off but Sylar was standing too close to move. He felt Sylar's hands slide over his shoulders and grab the lapels, slowly peeling the wet wool off him.

 

“Mmm. Thank you.” He swing it over his shoulder and leaned in to Mohinder’s ear again. “Have a good night, Mohinder.” His voice rumbled down Mohinder’s spine.

 

He felt Sylar move and turned to watch him walk back to the elevator.  Sylar didn't turn around.

 

Mohinder shook his head and went in his room. He gasped at the cold and cranked the wall heater up. He kicked off his shoes and looked at his reflection in the full length mirror.

 

He didn't look like he was unraveling. He felt it though.

 

He unbuttoned his shirt and threw himself down on the bed. His wet slacks were sticking to him from the thigh down. He sighed and sat back up to wrestle them off.

 

He brushed his hand over his swollen cock and bit back a groan. He gave up on the pants and pushed them down just far enough to tug his underwear down his hips.

 

He hadn't been so turned on in such a long time. Why was Sylar driving him _crazy_?

 

He wrapped his hand around his dick and lay down.  He scooted up the bed, wet pants dragging the comforter up, and hooked his feey on the mattress’ edge.

 

He thrust up into his hand and threw his head back. He jerked his hips up and rolled them down, finding a desperate rhythm between his hips and tight stroking fingers.

 

Sylar with his stupid eyes and stupid smiles, his casual touches and bony hips, wry humor and stupid beautiful face and damn that body, he could wrap all the way around him, those long legs around his, huge hands touching him and holding him and holding him down …

 

Mohinder stroked faster and came, thick over his fingers. He moved his clean hand to his face, dragging over his lips and to his neck. He lay still to catch his breath and tried to stop thinking.


	12. Chapter 12

Mohinder dreamed of his father, disappointed and distant, and of Sylar smiling through blood in his teeth.

 

He woke up in a state of panic, heaving dry sobs into his pillow.

 

He couldn't go back to sleep but he couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed.

 

Thoughts of his failures ran through his head - failure as a son, as a scientist, as a guardian, as a man.

 

He had left everything behind, following the very man that had started his life on the path of destruction in the first place.

 

Sylar was the monkey wrench that had disassembled his life. And with a coy smile and a bat of his eyelashes, Mohinder had allowed the man to destroy him again.

 

He heard a soft knock on his door and cringed.

 

“Housekeeping,” was the call from outside.

 

Mohinder’s voice was a rough croak as he yelled back. “It's alright, I don't need anything. Thank you.”

 

He lay in the dark and saw the sun rise  through the crack in the curtains. It was bright and fully morning when there was a knock on his door again.

 

“Mohinder?” he heard Sylar call softly. “Are you awake?”

 

Mohinder was silent as he listened.

 

“Okay. You rest. But … call me when you're up, okay?”

 

Mohinder buried his face in the pillow.

 

Sylar was a sadistic, self-serving murderer, he was charming and manipulative and would not hesitate in taking anything he wanted, damn everyone else.

 

He was … but if he had changed? If he had really changed in the year since they had last seen each other? What if he had?

 

Mohinder couldn't take the chance. He couldn't let himself be taken in.

 

He could assist Sylar's investigation, he could keep an eye on him. He could see if the man _had_ changed.

 

But he had to keep his guard up. He couldn't let Sylar break down his walls.

 

His walls were all he had left.

 

Bolstered with a plan, Mohinder detangled himself from the sheets and stood. He stepped over the pile of clothes he left on the floor and grabbed his phone off the charger. He sighed.

 

Sitting naked and cross legged on the bed, he scrolled through his small list of contacts for Sylar's name. He didn't find it and scanned through all his contacts, confused. Sylar had put it in the night before.

 

He found a number for ‘Gabriel ;)’ with a New York area code and shook his head. He modified the entry to take the winky emoji off and let his finger hover over the call button. After a moment's thought, he composed a text instead.

 

 _I'm up. Give me time to shower, I'll be ready in half an hour_.

 

He set the phone down and it buzzed instantly.  

 

_Good morning ;) I won't keep you waiting_

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes at the emoji. His phone buzzed again.

 

_I hope you slept well_

 

_I'll bring caffeine_

 

Mohinder couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face. He set the phone down before it could buzz again.

 

He scooped up his discarded clothes, annoyed that his slacks were still wet from the rain. He lay them out on the sink to dry and turned the shower up super hot.

 

He continued thinking in the shower, feeling better about his decision to continue helping Sylar. He could ignore the flirting. And the nice gestures. And small talk. And gentle eyes. And quirked smiles.

 

Damn it.

 

He could just hide behind his walls forever.

 

The bathroom was thick with steam when he got out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth, using a second towel on his hair as he exited the bathroom.

 

Sylar was sitting cross legged on his bed, where he had sat not long ago. He had a far away look in his eyes as his hand toyed with the sheet.

 

Mohinder stopped and thought of the paint can Sylar had read history from the previous day. Was he looking through the memories woven in the sheet?

 

Was he seeing Mohinder last night, desperately thrusting into his own hand, so hard and so turned on he couldn't stop? Did he know where his thoughts had been when he came?

 

Mohinder grit his teeth. So what. Fuck him. Didn't matter what he saw, he couldn't know Mohinder’s need had come from Sylar’s body against his, from his teasing and touching.

 

He couldn't know. Not for sure.

 

Sylar blinked and his focus came back as he turned to Mohinder. His eyes glazed again as he let them slip down Mohinder’s bare torso and legs. He snapped them back to Mohinder’s face.

 

“Let myself in. Borrowed the housekeeper’s key,” he explained as he held the swiped keycard up between two fingers. “Sorry,” he said, almost an afterthought.

 

Mohinder nodded and moved to his clothes piled in the armchair. No wonder Sylar had sat on the bed.

 

“I also brought lunch. It's kinda late now.” Mohinder looked and saw Chinese take out containers on the nightstand. He didn't smell the food before, but he did when he knew it was there and his empty stomach rumbled.

 

“Rough night?” Sylar asked.

 

Mohinder shrugged. He didn't feel like sharing. He grabbed clean clothes from his bag and went back to the bathroom to change.

 

The fog was thinner as he shut the door and quickly put his clothes on. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and called that good enough.

 

Sylar was still on the bed when he went back to the main room. Mohinder opened the curtains and squinted at the light.

 

“What time is it?”

 

Without checking, Sylar answered “Two thirty seven.”

 

“Wow.” He had spent half the day moping.

 

“Tea,” Sylar said, attracting Mohinder’s attention. He turned and saw Sylar holding out a paper cup as he drank from his own. He gladly took it and sat on the end of the bed opposite Sylar.

 

Sylar reached his long arm over and grabbed two take out containers by their metal handles. “Sweet and sour pork or cashew chicken?”

 

“Sweet and sour is good, thank you.” He took the offered cartoon and chopsticks and dug into the food. It was hot and sweet, and tasted better right then than it probably actually was.

 

“So about these murders,” he started, digging through the carton for a particularly good looking onion.

 

“Mmhmm,” Sylar hummed with a mouth full of chicken. He held his chopsticks in the corner of his mouth as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened the photos he had taken of the crime scene the morning before. He handed the phone to Mohinder.

 

“I looked them over last night but nothing’s jumping out. Except that graffiti.”

 

Well at least someone was doing something practical last night.

 

Mohinder looked at the picture Sylar had handed him and he squinted to look at the numbers tagged on the wall.

 

Sylar grabbed the phone from him and zoomed in. “C’mon, it's a touch screen, it's pretty intuitive.” He raised an eyebrow and handed the phone back.

 

Mohinder stuffed a big bite of bell pepper in his mouth and looked at the picture again. He turned the phone sideways and hummed in delight as the picture rotated.

 

Sylar was quiet so he looked up. His head was cocked to the side and the takeout in his lap. “Enjoying the technological advancements, Doctor? Welcome to the twenty first century, we've been waiting for you. Are you vegetarian?”

 

Mohinder was thrown by the question after the teasing. “Huh? Yes.”

 

Sylar's face looked serious. “I should have known that.”

 

“Why would you -? I'd never expect you to.” He shrugged. “Sweet and sour peppers are just fine.” He ate another, making his point.

 

Sylar shook his head. “But I - I just want to make sure you're okay,” he frowned. “I want to -”

 

“Want to what?” Mohinder had started scrolling through the photos on Sylar's phone.

 

“I want to take care of you,” Sylar replied.

 

Mohinder’s head snapped up. He felt his heartbeat jump but swallowed and said, “I can take care of myself.”

 

“I know, but I feel … I just want to.”

 

Mohinder stared at him. Sylar kept eye contact, cheeks turning slightly pink after his admission.

 

“I can take care of myself,” Mohinder asserted. He turned back down to the phone in his hands. He cleared is throat and changed the subject. “Did you take pictures of the other scenes?”

 

“No. But … let me try something …” he held out his hand in concentration and moved the desk drawer across the room, extracting the hotel notepad and pen with his mind and floating them over.

 

Mohinder paused with the chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

 

Sylar grabbed the pen and twirled it in his fingers over the notepad. He took the pen cap off, and took the barrel and inktube out. He stuck the tube in his mouth, bit and broke it, and snapped it in two with his hands.

 

“What are you doing?” Mohinder set his food on the bed and moved so he was kneeling next to Sylar on the edge.

 

“I don't know if this will work,” he said quietly. He tapped the broken inktube parts hard on the little paper pad, spraying ink all over it. Mohinder saw a few drops fly wild and Sylar corralled them mentally and redirected them on to the paper.

 

The ink all out on the paper, Sylar stuck the broken ends of the tube in the pen cap and set them on the nightstand. He put the paper pad on his lap and pressed four fingertips into the ink.

 

His face was set in concentration and the ink slowly began to swirl on the paper.

 

Mohinder’s eyes shot up in shock. He watched ink leave the page in liquid stalagmites and splash back down, ripples and waves sticking to the paper in thin lines. Sylar's hands looked outlined in gold light as the ink settled in place. He looked over at Sylar, whose eyes were almost shut in concentration. Sylar tilted his head and tore off the tiny paper sheet, spilling the liquid ink to the next page, where it danced and sprayed and left behind delicate ink lines again.

 

Sylar repeated the process on the whole pad of paper. His fingers were dyed dark.

 

He handed Mohinder the stack of papers. “Wish I had some color.”

 

“I have highlighters in my computer bag,” Mohinder said, pointing vaguely to the chair. He was looking at the papers - they were sketches of the crime scenes. Shuffling through, he saw some with corpses, some cleaned scenes, some with huge blackouts of blood.

 

Sylar searched his bag and found the offered highlighters, taking out pink and orange ones. He reached for the papers from Mohinder. Their fingers brushed in transfer.

 

Mohinder ignored the thrill up his spine and asked, “How are you doing that?”

 

Sylar shook his head and disassembled the first highlighter. “I can't believe it's working. Uh. So when I lost all my… acquired abilities with the Sh- the virus, I only retained telekenesis.” He looked up and caught Mohinder’s eye as he poured pink ink over the sketches. “So I thought,” he shrugged. “I could use that right after I used your cure.”

 

He stuck his unstained hand in the highlighter ink and it began to swirl around, filling in colors in shades of pink. “I still had all my powers. I didn't lose anything to the virus, I just thought I had so I didn't believe. I tried, but it wasn't until I believed I still had control of them that I could use them again.” He tapped orange ink out and Mohinder was dizzy from watching it move across the pages.

 

“Right now, I want to clear my name. What will help us most are visual clues. So I'm using a variation of empathy that allows me to view desires. I'm able to imprint the image of what I desire using another power.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I guess I got some artistic skills from that precog kid in New York. That's kinda cool.”

 

The ink settled and he laid the drawings out in order on the desk. They were vivid neon and stark black in the light streaming through the window. “I'm actually not sure if these images are from my subconscious or another power.” He rubbed his temple with the back of his hand, avoiding ink stained fingers. “Somethings I feel like it should be there - eidetic memory. There was a woman in Texas, I met her and had the strongest deja vû.” He looked in Mohinder’s eyes, his own looking deep with emotion. “It tasted metallic. Like death. I think I killed her before - the little swordsman messed with time and I don't think I killed her after that. It's screwy.”

 

Mohinder nodded. “He screws with a lot. He actually got me institutionalized.”

 

“What?” Sylar was in disbelief.

 

“He may have saved my life doing so. We worked it out.”

 

“Did you punch him? I'd have punched him.”

 

Mohinder smiled. “No, I save my fists for you.”

 

Sylar beamed. “Aww. You're so sweet.”

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes and tried to ignore his faltered breath. “So these are either eidetic or subconscious.”

 

“Yeah. If they're subconscious I'd worry about my emotions coloring them. But either way they're a starting point.”

 

“They're amazing.” He picked up the first picture. “I can't believe you used three or four powers at the same time. That's spectacular.” He looked up. Sylar was standing close, looking over his shoulder until he turned. His eyes were soft when they met Mohinder’s.

 

Quietly, he replied, “They all work together. Trying to keep each power separate is as useless as keeping the person and the power separate. The powers evos have are just a part of them. They're undeniable.” He glanced out the window and back. “I spent too long in denial.”

 

Mohinder didn't know what to say. He looked back down at the drawing in his hand. It was a clean scene, like Sylar hadn't gotten there until after the body was taken and the crime scene cleared.

 

It showed the underside of a boardwalk, highlighters creating an electric sunset reflecting off the waves. There were painted tags in on the pillars, black and orange, a few pink. Mohinder took a closer look.

 

“The detail is amazing; if this is from your subconscious, you're very observant.”

 

Sylar nodded, distracted as he looked over Mohinder’s shoulder.

 

“Where was this?”

 

“Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.”

 

Mohinder turned to his bag to retrieve him a felt pen. Sylar labeled the bottom of the sketches, handing them to Mohinder as he did.

 

The second drawing was mostly black ink, the stark white of the corpse highlighted with pink blood.

 

“Portsmouth?”

 

Sylar nodded. “On a ferry. I was able to get to the boat quickly, I stayed in the Carolinas for a while. He was found in the cargo hold.”

 

“Okay. So he was between these two cars,” he pointed to the black vehicle shadowing the scene and another colored a pale orange, trunk covered in bumper stickers.

 

“Yeah. There were reports of screaming, he was found soon after.”

 

The next was in Memphis, Tennessee, an older woman sitting slumped with her skull sawed open, inky black blood sprayed against a brick alley wall.

 

“On Beale Street. During the holiday parade.” Sylar's voice wavered. “It was terrible.”

 

The next was a young man, barely a man, draped off a bench. Blood pooled to the edge of the drawing.

 

“Richmond, at a museum. He was sixteen. The youngest.”

 

Mohinder recognized the next scene. It was in a park on Stanton island, a young man in front of a low graffitied wall. Mohinder had been to the park many times in the past.

 

Manhattan, on a street corner. They all looked the same, but something nagged at Mohinder - he knew that area as well. Sylar's picture was from after the corpse was taken but before the blood was cleaned up. It had sprayed a trash can, black covering stickers and tags.

 

The next was in Queens, in the alley next to an Indian pizza shop Mohinder stopped in when he was in the borough. The neon ‘closed’ sign reflected garishly in pink against the wet sidewalk and woman's dark skin.

 

Mohinder glanced at Sylar. Sylar's eyes didn't leave the drawings in Mohinder’s hands.

 

Brooklyn's victim was found in various pieces in what looked like a machine shop. Mohinder had to set it down.

 

“She was an artist, killed in her studio. She worked with industrial parts and welders. Was just starting to gain notoriety.”

 

Mohinder knew who he was talking about. He had been to a show of hers, a small installation a customer had told him about. She and her partner were both artists, Mohinder had had a short conversation about their work with them.

 

He closed his eyes and asked, “Are you following me?”

 

“What?”

 

He turned and glared. Angrily, he pointed to the murdered artist. “I met her, I went to one of her shows. I bought a book of her girlfriend's poetry.” He slid the Queens drawing over. “I eat at this restaurant.” Manhattan, picture moved over and Mohinder remembered why it was familiar. “Every Tuesday night there is a one man jazz band on this corner and I go out of my way to listen to him. He plays right under this window!” he pointed. And the picture from two days before - Brooklyn. “This is right by my apartment.” He was practically growling. “Are. You. Following me? Is this a threat? What the hell is your intention?”

 

“Mohinder, I'm not following you! I just got back into the city yesterday. If all of these are familiar though, these places out of the entirety of New York, maybe someone is though! Maybe I got you just in time!”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” he was unconvinced.

 

Sylar put his hand on Mohinder’s shoulder. “Seriously, I would not hurt you. You're important to me -” a look crossed his face and he trailed off. “What if someone knows that?” he spread the drawings out again. “None are even in the same state until New York, then it's five in two days. All places you have been or regularly visit. What if the murderer tracked you down and planned this around … you?”

 

Mohinder was flabbergasted. “Why?” He shook off Sylar's hand.

 

“I don't know.”

 

“This is rediculous. I … doubt you killed these people.”

 

“ _Thank_ you,” Sylar said gratefully, feeling the truth in his words.

 

“Maybe these are all coincidental. It is a big city.”

 

“Possible, yes.” Mohinder raised an eyebrow silently asking for the continuation. “Probable, no. I had already thought of asking you for help when I was down south.” He sat on the corner of the desk. “If someone was following you, I'm very glad I came to get you. I'll keep you safe.”

 

“I can keep myself safe.”

 

Sylar nodded. “I know.” He looked down at the scattered drawings. “But I will do everything I can to keep you safe."


	13. Chapter 13

Mohinder sat at the desk's chair, drawings laid out in front of him. He put them in chronological order, looking for a pattern.

 

The victims were different ages, genders, and ethnicities. The only similarity was that they were evolved humans.

 

The victims were all found in public or semi-public places.

 

They had all been left on display.

 

He signed and picked up the picture from Brooklyn. It was cropped so Mohinder was looking at his own profile, hair blowing in the breeze and hand clapped over his mouth as he looked at the arm laying alone in the weeds. The majority of the picture was the wall of the underpass.

 

Every inch was covered in overlapping graffiti and that's what Mohinder was looking at closely.

 

Sylar said the murderer had tagged the Cincinnati scene so there could be similar marks at other scenes.

 

There was a light knock at the door. Mohinder didn't look up as Sylar opened the propped door. He had gone back to his room for the pen and paper tablet there.

 

“Anything?” he rested a hand on Mohinder’s chair and leaned over him.

 

“I think this graffiti might be something.”

 

“Probably,” he nodded and perched back on the desk corner. He broke the pen and started the imprinting process again. Mohinder couldn't help but watch.

 

Sylar handed the finished black and white sketch over. It showed the painted wall, the ‘S’ and ‘ggixa’ in stark contrast on the grayed cement wall. This picture also had Mohinder, leaning close with his hand framing the crowned ‘S’.

 

He looked up at Sylar, who shrugged.

 

Mohinder sighed and put the two most recent murder pictures together, looking close at the graffiti.

 

“There,” Sylar said, pointing to a tiny pink ‘S’ from the Brooklyn overpass.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Can I?” Sylar took the paper and brought it over to the window's light. “Cincinnati had that weird word, maybe this has one too…”

 

Mohinder joined him at the window, resting against his arm as he poured over the drawing as well.

 

After a moment, he found it. “Look at that!” Sylar squinted and looked under his finger.

 

“Hey! Great. Now what does it mean?”

 

‘Ebxxa’, while an odd combination of letters, didn't mean anything to either of them.

 

“I was thinking an anagram, but definitely not with those letters.” Mohinder rubbed his mouth and chin in concentration. “There's graffiti in all these pictures, I bet there's more.”

 

They split the stack of remaining sketches and Sylar numbered a list of murder sites and wrote the two odd words next to the locations they were found.

 

Sylar found Memphis, the tag high on the wall almost off the page. “‘Axcxb’ in Memphis. Definitely not an acronym.”

 

Manhattan's tag was on the window at the street corner, ‘aacee’.

 

Mohinder handed the Bronx sketch to Sylar - he couldn't stand to see someone he had met wrenched into pieces in her workshop. Sylar found it quick, sprayed on the wall, almost looking like part of the mural that was in the studio. ‘aabac’.

 

“They're all five letters,” Mohinder muttered, grabbing Sylar's list from the desk. He tapped against the Bronx word and turned away quickly. Sylar's eyes followed him as he grabbed his computer from the bag and booted it up.

 

Mohinder met his eyes. “My zip code is 11213.” He moved the Brooklyn drawing towards them. “This is a couple blocks from my apartment - same zip code.” Sylar hopped off the desk and kneeled next to Mohinder’s chair.

 

“First … second, third letter. Do you think -”

 

“He could be telling us where he's going if this,” he pointed to the ‘aabac’ code, “Means this,” and tapped on the picture from Brooklyn.

 

The computer was up so Mohinder picked up the first code - ‘axcxb’ from Memphis. He paused. “What about ‘x’?”

 

“‘X,’ nothing, zero.”

 

Mohinder waved a finger at Sylar and searched 10302 in Google.

 

Stanton Island.

 

Two murders after Memphis.

 

Sylar wrote it down.

 

Mohinder searched the codes as Sylar found them in the pictures.

 

“‘Aacee,” Sylar found.

 

“Queens.”

 

“‘Debxc’?”

 

“Cincinnati.”

 

Picking up the picture from Ohio, Sylar read the code.

 

“Victoria, Texas.”

 

“The codes are two in advance. That will be his kill zone after the next.”

 

“What's the next?”

 

Sylar picked up the picture from Brooklyn, hands delicate at the edges. “‘Ebxxa’.”

 

Mohinder searched. “We're going to Iowa. Dubuque.”


	14. Chapter 14

Sylar went back to his room to pack and Mohinder swept through his own room, stuffing clothes and toiletries back in his bag. 

He collected Sylar's sketches and placed them carefully on his computer's keyboard before he closed the screen over and packed it. 

 

He heard Sylar stomping down the stairs as he went out to the hall. 

 

“Why are you so loud?” he asked as he met him in the stairwell. 

 

“Announcing my arrival. Got shit to do, didn't want to wait for you.” His footsteps were silent as they rushed downstairs together. 

 

Mohinder stood tapping his foot with the bags around him as Sylar checked them out at the front desk. 

 

“Now who's waiting,” he teased as Sylar turned back to him and picked up his bag without breaking stride. Mohinder hopped to catch up. 

 

“Brat,” Sylar growled, but was smiling when Mohinder glanced over. 

 

Mohinder opened the trunk and offered Sylar the keys but he shook his head and got in the passenger seat. 

 

“You drive faster,” he gave as an explanation. He opened the map on his phone and routed their trip. “Hmm. We'll get there after midnight if we go straight through.” He looked at Mohinder. “We'll stop somewhere.”

 

Mohinder nodded and Sylar navigated them to the freeway before he got comfortable and started fiddling with the radio. 

 

“So, uh,” Mohinder began. Sylar turned the radio down. “Why'd you put your number in my phone as ‘Gabriel’?”

 

He saw Sylar shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Thought it was best not to put an obvious ex-murderer’s contact in your phone,” he answered wryly. Mohinder looked at him and Sylar continued, “We all have our past. That's part of mine. But I won't have it haunt you, too.”

 

Mohinder was quiet for a few moments. The sounds of Fleetwood Mac filled the car as they both looked out the window. “Do you want me to call you Gabriel?”

 

Sylar thought. “If you need to in public, I guess. I like when you call me Sylar, though,” he smiled. 

 

Mohinder fell into silence as they drove. Sylar folded a leg up on the seat and threw his other foot on the dash, tapping his heel in time to the music. 

 

He took his phone from his coat pocket and typed something before putting it down. It buzzed almost immediately and he smiled, typed a reply, and spun his phone between his hands until he got a reply. 

 

“Who's that?” Mohinder just had to know everything. 

 

“A friend.”

 

Mohinder clamped down on the nagging jealousy at whoever got Sylar's tiny smile as he texted. “You have friends?” he bit out. 

 

Sylar stopped typing and looked up. “Ouch. Way to put me in my place.” He looked mad and hurt. He couldn't hide his emotions at all. 

Sighing, Mohinder apologized. “Sylar, that's not - I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.”

 

Sylar glared. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said bitterly. “What the hell?”

 

“I … I did have a rough night I guess. I'm sorry, I didn't want to take it out on you.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Mohinder paused. “No.” He didn't know how much truth was in the word and Sylar didn't indicate that he did. 

 

“I don't think I like you catty,” Sylar pouted. 

 

Mohinder shook his head. “I don't either.”

 

Sylar hummed. Mohinder patted his thigh awkwardly. Sylar looked at him crazy but couldn't hold back the smile cracking his face. 

 

“I am sorry. Who's your friend? Anyone special?”

 

Sylar squinted at him sideways before turning back to his phone. “Bennet’s kid.” 

 

Mohinder noticed he didn't answer the second question but didn't press it. “The cheerleader? Claire?” He saw Sylar nod. He laughed. “What do you have in common with a teenage girl? What do you talk about, boys and hair?”

 

Sylar raised his eyebrow but didnt turn to him. “Not a teenager anymore. Don't be mean. And you're only half right.”

 

Mohinder perked up. “Which half?” Sylar didn't answer him. 

 

Sylar eventually put down his phone and switched the radio station around as they exited range of the one they were on. 

 

Mohinder yawned and stretched, cracking his back with a sigh. 

 

“Do you need me to drive?”

 

Mohinder started to shake his head but he could feel his eyes start to get fuzzy. It was the last moments of dusk and he would just get more tired without the sun. “Yes.”

 

“Okay, stop at a gas station, I'll get some coffee.”

 

Mohinder nodded and did as he was told. He stretched as he walked around the car and got in the passenger side, waiting for Sylar to come back from the shop. 

 

He did but rummaged through his bag in the trunk before opening the front door. 

 

He slid into the seat gracefully, two cups in his hands. He had glasses on, thick black frames perched on his nose. He looked younger with them on. Mohinder watched his long eyelashes blink behind the lenses. 

 

Sylar looked around the car. 

 

“Mohinder.”

 

“What?” he shook himself. 

 

“Mohinder.” He glanced at the interior. “Your stupid car has no cup holders.”

 

Mohinder sighed and held out his hands. Sylar smiled and handed him the hot paper cups. “One of these for me?” he asked. 

 

“If you want coffee, by all means. If not, more for me.”

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes as Sylar pulled back on the freeway. 

 

As he hit speed, Sylar put the car in cruise control and took one of the coffees. He rested it on his thigh under his hand, steering with his other hand draped lazily over the wheel. 

 

Mohinder watched night fall around them. He was slowly being lulled to sleep when Sylar turned the music up. 

 

He was comfortable against the door, holding the extra coffee cup loosly between his legs. The vocal track on the song playing sounded off, like it was too loud, mixed to sound like the vocalists were actually in the car, not sound coming from the speakers. 

 

Confused, Mohinder turned to see Sylar singing lowly, an exact replica of both Freddie Mercury’s falsetto and David Bowie’s baritone as he sang both sides of the duet. 

 

He watched Sylar beat the bass line into the steering wheel as he sang. 

 

Sylar glanced over at him and stopped mid-word. “I thought you were asleep.”

 

“That may be the weirdest thing I've seen you do.”

 

Sylar shrugged. “It's kinda fun.”

 

The track changed and a new one began. “Okay, this one's fun,” Sylar pointed to the stereo and drank the rest of coffee number one. He started singing in Joan Jett’s rough voice about an underage boy by a jukebox and Mohinder slapped a hand over his mouth. 

 

He felt Sylar laugh against his palm. “Stop! That's so weird!” Amusement was thick in his voice too. 

 

“Weird may just be my super power,” Sylar mused as Mohinder slid his hand off his face.

 

Mohinder stared. “May be.”

 

Sylar reached across the car and took the coffee from between Mohinder’s legs. He drank some and grimaced at the tepid temperature. Mohinder crossed his legs and stretched his arms over his head, body bowing. He saw Sylar snap his eyes back to the road. 

 

They rode in comfortable silence, Mohinder with the seat lounging a few clicks and Sylar finishing his coffee. He hummed a few bars of a song, was quiet, and hummed again. 

 

“What do you sound like? Singing, I mean,” Mohinder asked. “I can tell you want to, go ahead.”

 

Sylar glanced at him. “If I feel like it.”

 

Mohinder crossed his arms and settled deeper into the seat. Sylar turned the heater on low. 

 

The freeway wasn't empty but they did have a solid stretch of road around them without cars. Mohinder felt the passing city lights lull him to a tired numbness. 

 

He didn't hear Sylar at first, but when he did, he didn't acknowledge him. He was singing the chorus to a song Mohinder didn't know off hand, voice low and deep, not quite on key but pleasant. 

 

He continued to sing hooks and choruses as the radio played, tapping the beat onto the gearshift. 

 

Mohinder shut his eyes and listened. 

  
  
  
  


He opened his heavy eyes as Sylar gently tapped the brakes, downshifting as he hit a traffic snarl. 

 

He looked over at Mohinder with a grin. “Welcome back. Good rest?”

 

“I fell asleep?” The slight crust gumming his eyelashes together answered that for him and he rubbed them clear, yawning. 

 

“You snore.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Just a little,” Sylar grinned. He slid the car into neutral as traffic came to a halt. “It's cute.”

 

“Is this who you used to be?” Sylar glanced over at him, confused. Mohinder waved a hand. “Before … before powers, before  _ Sylar _ . You sing in the car. You make jokes, you're kind of …” a flirt, “Nice.”

 

Sylar laughed. “No, not at all.”

 

Mohinder was silent, waiting for him to continue. 

 

Sylar sighed. “I learned not to give a fuck when I discovered my power. Then I cared too much, and for the wrong people, and shut down again. I learned a lot about who I really was and who I wanted to be and this is where it got me.” He shrugged and looked out the window. “Took the hard road to get here, but it's nice to not worry about what people think anymore.” 

 

He shifted into first and inched up with the car in front of him. “It was exhausting trying to be what people expected me to be,” he continued softly. 

 

Mohinder nodded, knowing all too well. He had the strongest urge to tell Sylar about his dream the night before, of how his father's disappointment haunted him past death. If his father was still alive, if he had had any fate other than having been ended by Sylar's own hands, he would have told him. 

 

He felt sick. 

 

He looked at Sylar, face soft and open as he drove, hands tapping the beat of a Genesis song into the steering wheel and gearshift. 

He could not fathom that those very hands had so much blood on them. 

 

“It's only been a couple years since I've seen you. Why are you talking like it's been longer?” he asked. 

 

Sylar sighed and checked the rearview mirror. He switched the right indicator on and changed lanes until he was in the exit lane. 

 

“Where are we going?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I can't drive anymore. We're getting some dinner and talking. I feel we have a lot to catch up on.”


	15. Chapter 15

Mohinder drove them up the street to a hotel and they were able to get adjoining rooms. Up the elevator and down the hall in silence, Mohinder jumped a little when Sylar brushed a hand on his arm and quietly said goodnight. 

 

He nodded and ducked into his room. He was just fixing his mountain of pillows and tucking into bed when he heard his phone buzz across the room on its charger. With a sigh, he got up to check it. 

 

It was a text from Sylar. 

 

_ I'm sorry I freaked out tonight _

 

Mohinder typed back,  _ Do you want to come talk?  _

 

_ I don't want to talk anymore _

_ Out loud _

_ It's harder _

 

_ Ok _

 

His phone was quiet long enough he plugged it back in and turned back to bed. It buzzed and he rolled his eyes. 

 

_ I'm so glad you're here with me _

 

Mohinder didn't know what to say to that.  _ I know. _

 

_ I want to apologize to you _

 

_ Please don't. I can't handle that today.  _ Mohinder swallowed the lump in his throat. 

 

_ I'm scared too  _

 

_ I know _ . 

 

_ I'm scared I'll lose control _

_ With you _

_ I don't want to hurt you m _

 

Mohinder sighed and took the phone to bed. He curled under the blanket and lounged on his mound of pillows. 

 

_ I don't know how to help you. But _

_ I'll try.  _

 

_ You're seriously the best _

_ I'm sorry I fought with you _

_ So long _

 

_ Can't change that. Can only focus on right now _ . 

 

_ You're too good <3 _

 

_ Hardly.  _

_ Stop sending stupid faces.  _

 

_ Not a stupid face  _

_ A heart, silly _

_ : D _

 

_ You're not twelve.  _

 

_ I feel like it sometimes _

 

Mohinder laughed and his phone buzzed again. 

 

_ You should laugh more _

_ I love it _

 

_ Stop listening to me.  _

 

_ Not me, these walls are paper _

_ Guess I get to hear you snore again _

_ How enduring _

 

_ Shut up, asshole.  _

 

_ Bossy, bossy  _

_ Do you order everyone around _

_ Or am I just special?  _

 

Mohinder signed and curled deep in the pillows. He didn't want to rise to Sylar's teasing. 

 

_ M? _

_ Did you die _

_ You didn't die I can hear you breathe _

 

_ Stop listening to me!  _

 

_ Haha just kidding _

_ I think I had too much coffee  _

_ Don't know if I'll sleep _

_ Come over _

 

Mohinder’s heart skipped. His phone buzzed again. 

 

_ I have a deck of cards _

 

“You're insufferable!” he shouted behind him at the wall. 

 

“Please!” he heard through the wall. 

 

With a loud dramatic sigh, he slipped a pair of sleep pants and a soft shirt on and went next door. The door opened as he raised a hand to knock and he saw Sylar sitting in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. The door shut gently behind him.

 

“Cards,” Sylar pointed to his bag on the luggage rack tucked in the corner. Mohinder dug through his clothes and brought the cards over, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

 

“What do you play?”

 

“Solitaire,” Sylar answered. 

 

He rolled his eyes, “What do you play with someone else?”

 

Sylar shrugged and Mohinder nodded, shuffling and dealing the cards and explained gin rummy. 

 

Sylar was very good at card games. 

 

Mohinder rolled onto his back and drew from the stack over his head. Sylar grinned upside down at him as he called gin after a couple draws. 

 

“Ugh, cheater,” Mohinder stretched and curled his legs up on the bed. 

  
  
  


He woke up the next morning balled up, head on his arms, foot of the comforter pulled over over him. Sylar wasn't there. He stretched, legs hanging over the bed sideways. 

 

He jumped at a light touch on his ankle. “Good morning,” Sylar said. He was dressed in black. 

 

Mohinder moaned as he finished stretching. “Why didn't you kick me out?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “You weren't snoring.” He ran a comb through his hair and finished shaping it. He patted Mohinder’s leg. “Outta bed, sleeping beauty. We're only a couple hours out.”

 

Mohinder shuffled to the door, passing the bathroom thick with steam. It smelled like the soap that scented Sylar's clothes and he breathed deep. 

 

His own room smelled stale and was cold. He showered quickly with the complementary soap by the sink and shook wrinkles out of his shirt. 

 

He met Sylar in the hall minutes later. Sylar smiled. “You clean up well.”

 

Mohinder glared. “I wore this two days ago. Probably smelled better two days ago. Quit being a smartass.”

 

Sylar wrapped his arm around Mohinder’s shoulders, grabbing his bag’s strap. He nuzzled his hair behind his ear. “You smell fine,” he whispered, hand trailing over Mohinder’s back as he started down the hall. 

Mohinder shivered and took a deep breath before following him. Sylar was looking at the floor as he held the elevator but ran his eyes slowly up Mohinder’s body and gave him a little crooked smile as they started down. Mohinder stuck his hands in his pockets, buzzing with nervous energy. 

 

He pulled the car around while Sylar checked out. 

Sylar fussed with the passenger seat and brought his phone out to search where in Dubuque they should start scoping out. 

 

“Its a small town, doesn't look like much excitement there until summer. Parks, river, casinos, museums.”

 

“Is there anything in common with the rest of the murder scenes?” Mohinder asked. 

 

“Where's my list?”

 

Mohinder pointed his thumb to the bags in the backseat. Sylar reached back for them. 

 

“Folded in my computer.”

 

Sylar unbuckled and turned around to search. “Got it.” He looked over the list. “Water, maybe? On a beach, on a boat, on the river. Or a park? Or museum.”

 

“Is there any common link on that list?”

 

Sylar looked it over. “Not that I can see. I'm just missing it, I know.” He looked over, “That's why you're here, brains.”

 

“I thought I was the brawn.”

 

“You're the whole package, sweetheart,” Sylar said lightly. 

 

Mohinder snorted and thought. “You said casinos? Let's start there. He hasn't killed in the same kind of spot twice yet. We'll eliminate as were go.”

 

“Sounds good to me. “Wake me when we're there, okay?” He leaned the seat back and crossed his arms. Mohinder turned the radio down and listened to his breathing even out. 


	16. Chapter 16

They took the back booth in an all night diner, Sylar sliding in sideways and taking up the entire bench with his legs, Mohinder sitting on the opposite bench edge catty corner to him. They ordered and Mohinder waited for Sylar to start talking. 

 

“When was the last time you talked to Parkman?” he spat out his name. He took off his glasses and folded them on the table. 

 

“It's been a while. Last I heard he was back in L.A. with his wife and Matty. Is he okay? Are they okay?”

 

Sylar shrugged and shook his head. “That man’s been walking a dangerous path for a long time. He's close to becoming a monster.” He looked at Mohinder, eyes hard. “I know.”

 

“What's he doing?” Mohinder fiddled with his water glass. 

 

Sylar sighed. “I don't know, I don't want to get anywhere near him.” Mohinder furrowed his eyebrows. “Last time I saw him he trapped me in my mind. For nineteen hundred twenty four days.”

 

“What? That's,” he calculated in his head, “More than five years.”

 

“Five years, three months, and a week. I spent the first three years completely alone in an empty city. New York all by myself. Doors were locked, the weather never changed, and I fixed watches and clocks and watched time continue as I was stuck. I thought I'd die there alone.” 

 

He avoided Mohinder’s eyes, organizing the container of sugar and sweetener packets on their table. Quietly, he continued, “I tried to die. After a couple years. I couldn't take it, I couldn't keep seeing a loop of everything I had done wrong, every life I had taken, every life I had ruined. All I could do was fix stupid broken clocks and run shit through my mind. I was tearing myself apart. I would kill myself and I would open my eyes and I'd be back. Sisyphus chasing the end of perpetual torment.

 

“I was alone in my apartment but it was like I was just barely alone.” He swallowed. He looked up and met Mohinder’s worried eyes. “There were books. Stacks and stacks of books all over. Novels and scientific papers and instruction manuals, things I'd never read before.” He tapped the table. “This was  _ my  _ mind, but, ugh, the clutter of books everywhere. And sometimes, I would walk into a room and it would smell faintly of chai. Like you had just left, like I had just missed you.”

 

He toyed with the straw in his water. “I was chasing  _ you _ . I was lost in my own mind obsessing over my mistakes and chasing after you.”

 

Their food came, a mushroom omelet for Mohinder and a BLT, no bacon add avocado for Sylar. Sylar poked at his fries and Mohinder spread jam on his toast. 

 

Sylar sighed and told Mohinder how Peter had come to be trapped in his mind as well and how they had escaped. He told him how they had been physically trapped for mere hours while it had been years to them. 

 

“I learned I was weak. I had thought I could be alone, I had thought I could gain powers and knowledge and that would fulfill me. 

 

“I was wrong. The swordsman told me that I would become very powerful, I would cut down anyone in my path. I would slaughter the world to gain power. He said he had seen the future and this was my destiny. 

 

“My destiny was to be alone at the top of the world. I never wanted to be all powerful. I just want to be enough,” he whispered. “I can't be alone - I don't  _ want _ to be alone. I was wrong thinking that I could push people away forever, never make human connections.”

 

He picked up half his sandwich and put it back down. Looking down at his plate, he said, “You are the only person who's given me hope that I can have that connection. Given me hope that I'm not alone. When I was stuck in my mind, it was the thought of you that gave me hope for escape, a reason.” He looked up, eyes sad. “Mohinder, you mean so much to me. You asked me why I came to you? Because at my lowest, you were the hope that came to me. I've always needed you, and my world changed when we met. It just took me time to change with it.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I'm not the man you remember, and I'm not Gabriel from before. I've learned - what I've done is part of who I am, but who I'm working on being is who I want you to see. This is me,” he spread his arms. “I know it's not fair I can read your truths and lies, so I'm being as truthful with you as possible. This is me laid out on the table. I'm fucked up, I fucked up, and I'm never going to be able to make amends.

 

“All I'm asking for is a chance. For you to see who I am now. Not just see everything I've done.”

 

Mohinder poked the mushrooms on his plate. He looked up. “Do you know what you're asking me to do?”

 

“Yes, yes I do. I - I can feel everything I've ever done. My … I thought she was my mother. I killed her. It was not my intention, but it is the truth,” his hands shook on the table. “I killed her. I have never forgiven myself for it, for any of it, but it is a truth I have accepted and learned to live with. I have so many skeletons in my closet,” he laughed painfully, sounding on the verge of hysteria. 

 

His hands continued to shake and Mohinder wanted to cover them, console him, but his father's face was heavy on his mind and he didn't move. 

 

Sylar gasped a large breath and leaned his head back. Mohinder saw his eyes’ wet shine before he did. He swiped his palms over his eyes and looked back at Mohinder with a bitter smile on his face. “So that’s been my life. Guilt and self loathing, sometimes I cry, it's been real swell. Please, what about you?”

 

Mohinder’s eyes were soft as he watched Sylar crack. His face must have been pitying since Sylar had to look away before he broke apart. He bent his legs up and hugged an arm around his knees. 

 

Mohinder started, “I hid. I hid from everyone, I don't even watch the news so I don't have to know anything. I don't talk to anyone, I don't contribute to society. I'm … scared,” he admitted. “That's where I am right now. I'm scared.”

 

“Are you scared of me?”

 

Mohinder finally took a bite of his omelet. “Sylar, you're a overgrown emo baby crying in the back of a Denny’s, you're not scary.”

 

Sylar laughed, the sound surprised out of him abruptly and he continued laughing hysterically until he cried. People turned to see. 

 

Mohinder let him continue for a moment, then patted his hand. That didn't work so he held it, thumb stroking over his fingers in a loose grip. 

 

Sylar hiccuped and calmed down. He gripped Mohinder’s hand tight. “Sorry.” He had stopped shaking. 

 

“You're crazy.”

 

Sylar nodded. 

 

“Can I have my hand back?”

 

Sylar shook his head, holding tighter. 


	17. Chapter 17

The casino was bustling as they entered; the perfumed air cool and smoky. Sylar grimaced at the amount of people they had to work their way through as they went up the stairs to the gaming floor. 

 

Slot machines were dinging and singing, lit up around them. 

 

It was loud so Mohinder had to stand on his toes to ask in Sylar's ear, “Split up or stay together?”

 

He saw Sylar squirm. “Together.” 

 

“Okay. Let's blend in.” He walked down the aisles of machines, trying to look interested in them when his real interest was divided between watching the patrons and feeling Sylar's eyes on him from behind. 

 

There was a weight to the attention that was making it hard for Mohinder to breathe. He could almost still feel Sylar's body against his from days ago. 

 

He almost jumped when Sylar touched his back and stopped him. When Mohinder turned, he saw Sylar's hands tapping nervously against his legs. “So uh, what do we do?” Sylar looked around. 

 

Mohinder smiled. “You've never been to a casino?” Sylar shook his head. Mohinder glanced again at his fluttering hands. “Let's get you a drink.”

 

They went to the main bar and on Mohinder’s lead, sat. Mohinder pulled a bill from his wallet and asked the bartender for a whisky neat as he slid the bill into the video poker machine in front of him. He put a bill in Sylar's machine too as he ordered the same drink. 

 

As the bartender was pouring, Mohinder leaned in and said quietly, “Just push buttons slowly, look like you're spending money. Drinks are free here if you're gambling.”

 

Sylar laughed. “Cheap.”

 

Mohinder tisked. “Smart. Or cheap, yeah.” He took his drink, placed a couple ones on the counter as tip, and cashed out after a round of poker. He watched Sylar play a few hands of blackjack, losing one and winning two. He cashed out as well and they started wandering through the machines again. 

 

Sylar was still all nervous energy with the drink in his hand. “Are you alright?”Mohinder asked. 

 

“There's so much - just so much here. Too many people. And it's bright and loud. And the carpet is weird.”

 

Mohinder hadn't noticed the carpet, but when he did, he thought it looked like maybe he was drunk. He had barely sipped his whisky but the clashing circles and zigzags at their feet looked like they could be buzzing. 

 

“Yeah. It's a lot. Are you going to be okay?” Sylar shrugged and drank. “Just find something to focus on, try to ignore everything else.”

 

He should have known Sylar's focus would be on him. His eyes were almost a physical weight on his back. 

 

He wasn't unnerved by the attention, just hyper aware. 

 

They walked through the rows of machines and to the tables. What little of Sylar's attention wasn't on him was drawn to the blackjack tables. 

 

Mohinder motioned to one with his head and sipped his drink. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “It's all I know how to play.”

 

That was as good as a yes so they sat and changed money for chips, dealt in to the next game. 

 

Sylar was very good at blackjack. Mohinder elbowed him and he started losing or drawing every so often to even out. 

 

Mohinder lost more often than he usually did but he was scoping the room. They had a couple more whiskeys. 

 

Sylar glanced at him and tapped his cards for a hit. He stayed and asked “Anything?”

 

Mohinder shook his head and hit twenty three with his hit. One more bet lost. Sylar won. 

 

“Ready to move on?”

 

Mohinder nodded and they cashed out. Sylar grinned wide as he was handed three hundred dollar chips and a few smaller denominations. 

 

“Very nice,” Mohinder grinned. He felt his head swim a little as he stood. He set his half full glass next to a slot machine as they passed. 

 

Sylar looked a little looser. He sat through a round of poker and lost with a laugh. He asked a waitress for a coke and tipped her his smaller chips. Twirling a hundred in his fingers, he turned a slow circle and asked Mohinder what the roulette table rules were. 

 

“You bet on what you think the ball will land on. Color, number. Want to take a chance?”

 

Sylar's eyes roamed over his face. “I think I may.” His eyes were half closed and mouth barely open and he looked so beautiful. More so when he smiled at Mohinder, touching his hand in a fleeting hold before turning to the table. 

 

Sylar placed two hundred dollar chips on black. 

 

“Kiss me for luck?” Sylar asked jokingly. 

 

Before be could think about it, Mohinder reached out and cupped Sylar's face with his hand. Sylar looked down, mouth open and pupils blown. Mohinder wrapped his other hand around Sylar's cheek and dragged the man down. Sylar stopped breathing and Mohinder thought his own heart would jump out through his throat. 

 

Mohinder ran his hands back and threaded his fingers in Sylar's hair. He tugged and Sylar gasped. 

 

Sylar's lower lip trembled as Mohinder brought their faces together. He felt Sylar's hands wrap around his waist loosely. His lips barely touched against Sylar's and he dragged his lips over his jaw, thick with day-old stubble, and placed a single kiss high on Sylar's smooth cheekbone. 

 

They heard the rattle of the ball in the roulette wheel. “How about a real kiss?” Sylar asked, voice raw. 

 

Mohinder’s fingers tightened in Sylar's hair. “Win and we'll talk.”

 

Sylar's hands gripped him tighter.

 

A scream ripped through the casino, breaking them apart. 

 

They looked around and saw people rushing from the far end of the room. Sylar swore under his breath, glanced at Mohinder, and rushed into the throng of people. 

 

Mohinder looked to the roulette table and saw the stone faced dealer taking Sylar's bet; the ball had landed on red. “Fuck,” Mohinder swore and followed Sylar. 

 

They pushed against people and around a corner where Sylar fell to the ground next to a man bleeding from a head wound. He grabbed the man's face and Mohinder gasped when he saw the wound was a shallow cut running across his forehead and into his hair. 

 

“What did you see?” Sylar asked. The man shook his head and tried to breathe. “Who did this?!”

 

Mohinder knelt by them but Sylar pushed him away. “Go! Find him!”

 

They were in the hall by an employee entrance so Mohinder ran through the doors and into a service hall. He passed two cocktail waitresses, one with a tray of drinks and one with a tray and broken glasses at her feet. They were shaken. 

 

Mohinder asked “A man?” and they pointed further down the hall. He was on his tail! 

 

Mohinder ran, pushing off walls to turn and wound his way out of the casino. He was outside in a small courtyard.

 

An empty courtyard. 

 

He heard the door slam open behind him and turned - Sylar was gasping as he bent to breathe. He saw Mohinder alone. 

 

“Fuck,” he wheezed and kicked hard from the ground. He flew up high over the courtyard, scanning the streets around. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he called back down. 

 

Mohinder heard calls from behind the brick wall of the courtyard. Sylar landed gracefully next to him and he backhanded him in the arm. “You ass, you can fly?”

 

“Yeah. We should leave, I attracted some attention with that.” There were more shouts from the street. 

 

They moved to the wall on the far side of the courtyard and Mohinder knelt to boost Sylar over. Sylar gave him a crazy look and smiled, taking the assist and climbing over the wall. Mohinder jumped and grabbed the edge, easily pulling himself up and over. Landing next to Sylar, he continued. “I would really like to punch you right now.”

 

Sylar winked at him. “Promises promises. Later, okay? Let's just get back to the car.” He stopped behind a leafy bush and peered around. There was no one there so he grabbed Mohinder’s wrist and pulled him along. 

 

Grumbling, Mohinder pouted, “I sold my bike for a stupid station wagon when you can fly.”

 

Sylar smiled. “Well, I can't fly with carry ons.” He flexed his arms. “I'm just not that strong.”

 

Mohinder smacked him again, but chuckled. 

 

They passed a group of people on the sidewalk and walked with purposeful casualness. 

 

Sylar bumped Mohinder with his shoulder. “Thanks for the help over the wall, don't know if I could’ve flown over that,” he winked. 

 

Mohinder rubbed his temple and rolled his head to look at Sylar's grinning face. He glared from between his fingers. “I really hate you sometimes.”

 

Sylar nodded and pursed his lips. “I can work with sometimes.”

 

They rounded the corner leading to the front of the casino and Sylar threw his hand on the wall in front of Mohinder’s face, stopping him abruptly.  He turned to face Mohinder, back to the entryway. Paramedics were wheeling the injured man out. 

 

“He's alright?” Mohinder asked quietly, looking around Sylar's shoulder. 

 

Sylar nodded. “As alright as a head wound can be.”

 

“Good. Good.” He felt residual adrenaline itching in his arms. 

 

“Now then,” Sylar drawled. He brushed Mohinder’s bangs from his face and sprung a curl at his temple. “About that kiss.”

 

Mohinder swallowed. “You didn't win.”

 

Sylar raised an eyebrow. 

 

“It landed on red. You didn't win,” he repeated. “I looked.”

 

Sylar's mouth quirked sideways. “A stranger screams with a killer on the loose and you're more worried about whether my lips touch yours or not?”

 

Mohinder’s chest tightened as his adrenaline continued to race and his heartbeat sped up. 

 

“I wouldn't say worried.”

 

Sylar leaned incrementally closer. “What would you say, then?”

 

“I'm … antsy.”

 

“Yeah?” Sylar bit his lip. 

 

“And I said we'd talk.”

 

Sylar's eyes wandered to Mohinder’s lips. He smiled and leaned up to Sylar's ear. He rested his hand on Sylar's breast bone and felt him stop breathing. He whispered against Sylar's ear, “But you didn't win.”

 

He saw the shiver run down Sylar's body as he grinned. “Funny. I feel like I did.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Did you see graffiti?” Mohinder asked when they got back to the car. 

 

“Nope.” Sylar swooped into the driver's seat. 

 

“We need to go back.”

 

“ _ You _ need to go back,” Sylar corrected as he slid the car in reverse. “The flying guy is going to stay in the car, thank you. I'll attract less attention here.”

 

That did make sense. “I guess.”

 

Sylar pulled up to the front of the casino, letting Mohinder out. “Good luck, sweety!” he called through the open door. “Call me when you run out of money!”

 

Mohinder flipped him the bird as he walked up the stairs. He swore he could hear Sylar's laugh ringing behind him.

 

He tried to be sly waking in, but he always felt more awkward and obvious when he was trying to play it cool. Instead, he beelined it to the employee hallway and walked through the doors. The hall was empty so he took his time scanning the walls. 

 

They were all bare. 

 

“Excuse me, sir,” he heard behind him. “You can't be back here.” A small man with wire rim glasses and a dealer's vest waved Mohinder down. 

 

“I know, I know,” he started walking back down the hallway but turned. “Actually … I was called in to clean some graffiti? I have the work order but not the location.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and hoped he lied like a pro. 

 

“Oh, thank goodness, every time I turn around, there is more in that bathroom. Come,” he led Mohinder down the hall, past where Sylar had helped the man, and to the men's room. The wall by the sinks was covered in marker tags, and in two places, very obvious red spray paint. 

 

“I see,” Mohinder said. He flipped his phone open and snapped pictures before thanking the man and leaving. 

 

“I'll wait for you here!” the man called behind him. 

 

Mohinder cringed. “No, no don't do that … it might take me a while to get back … I have so many … supplies,” he walked backwards and towards the door as he babbled. 

 

He quickly called Sylar. 

 

“That was fast,” Sylar purred through his phone. 

 

“Come get me. I'm walking, come get me.” He bounded down the stairs to the sidewalk and started walking the direction of traffic. He snapped his phone closed and stuffed his hands back in his pockets.

 

He didn't notice the Volvo at his side until the car behind it honked and swerved around in the suicide lane. Sylar leaned over the center consol and opened the door for Mohinder.

 

“Go, go,” Mohinder ordered as he stepped in. 

 

Sylar laughed, “What'd you do, nervous Nellie?”

 

“I lied to a guy.”

 

He laughed and drove. “You'd make a terrible villain if you can't even lie to a stranger.”

 

“Do they teach you that in villainy school?” he asked sarcastically. 

 

Straight faced, Sylar nodded and replied, “Right before they teach raw sex appeal. Guess which subject I aced?” he winked. 

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

“And you're a bad liar, even without the tingling.”

  
  
  
  


They were on the road for almost an hour, the freeway clear and asphalt smooth, when Sylar perked his head to the side. Mohinder was half asleep on the door but heard a siren moments later and sat up. 

 

The siren got louder and Sylar swore as blue and red lights flashed behind them. 

 

“Give me your hand,” he ordered. Mohinder didn't so he turned to him, eyes desperate. “Mohinder, please!”

 

He held his hand out palm up and Sylar wrapped his around it as he pulled the car over and cut the engine. Mohinder watched in awe as Sylar's hand darkened to match his skin tone. He looked up and watched as Sylar's features morphed into his own. 

 

He was grimacing like it hurt but shook his head, brushing bangs back from his face. He cracked his neck and worked his jaw; Mohinder watched as he settled into his own body. 

 

“Gimme your wallet.” Sylar moved the seat forward a couple clicks. 

 

Mohinder gave it to him and Sylar smiled, a look that was disconcertingly coy on his own face. He tilted his head and slipped Mohinder’s wallet into his back pocket. “That was easy. What else would you give me if I asked?”

 

“You didn't ask,” Mohinder retorted as he stared. Sylar looked exactly like him but he had retained his own clothes. He watched as Sylar fixed his thick rimmed glasses and pout at his button up shirt. He opened the top couple buttons. “Hey!” Mohinder protested, feeling vaguely violated. 

 

Sylar stretched his shoulders. “Sorry, you're kinda muscular.”

 

Mohinder blinked and didn't know what to say to that. 

 

Sylar glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the officer behind them start to walk over. He started muttering something so quietly Mohinder couldn't hear.

 

The officer tapped on the window and Sylar rolled it down. 

 

“Good evening officer,” he said warmly in his own voice colored with Mohinder’s clipped accent. Mohinder’s eyes shot up. He hadn't expected that. Or that his own accent would light his blood on fire. 

 

“Good evening,” the police officer leaned over and looked at Mohinder trying to clear the shock from his face in the passenger seat. “Do you know how fast you where going?” he asked as he turned back to Sylar. 

Sylar blinked a couple times. If Mohinder were a lesser man, he'd say he batted his eyelashes at the police officer. 

 

“Honestly, officer, I do not, the speedometer is off. It's my next thing to fix,” he patted the steering wheel. “How fast was I going?”

 

“Seventy three. This is a sixty five zone. Licence and registration, please.”

 

“Goodness, officer, I'm so sorry. Of course.” He shuffled through Mohinder’s wallet and handed him the licence. 

 

“Thank you, mister …” he looked over Mohinder’s identification. “Singh.”

 

Sylar reached over Mohinder’s lap to open the glove compartment. He rested a hand on Mohinder’s leg and winked with a small grin. 

 

He slyly trailed his hand down Mohinder’s thigh, sending shivers through his body. 

 

As he was handed the paperwork, the officer asked, “Where are you and your brother coming from?”

 

“New York,” Sylar answered, sounding wistful. “We're taking a holiday.”

 

The officer looked up quizzically. “In Iowa?”

 

Sylar nodded. “We're going to Cedar Rapids.”

 

“Now that's thrilling,” he said dryly. He handed the paperwork back to Sylar, who handed it to Mohinder to put away. “Don't feel you have to rush there. Stay to the posted speed.” He looked over at Mohinder. “Have a good evening sir.”

 

“Thank you, you too,” Mohinder answered. 

 

“Stop speeding,” the police officer told Sylar, tapping his nose and pointing at him in an ‘I'll be watching you’ gesture. 

 

“Thank you officer, have a good night.” Sylar cranked the window closed. 

 

“What the fuck,” Mohinder said quietly. Sylar was smiling as he pulled back onto the road, slowly and using the indicator light longer than absolutely necessary. 

 

“What the fuck, you, ‘Rahul Singh’. Where did  _ you _ get a fake ID?” He had dropped his accent. Mohinder looked out the windshield so he didn't have to see his own lips form Sylar's words. 

 

“I have connections.” Molly had found her way into Rebel’s group easily and they had their hands in many pies. 

 

Sylar glanced over at him and Mohinder could not read his face. He shivered and looked away.

 

Changing the subject, Mohinder smacked Sylar's arm. “‘Goodness, officer, we're on holiday’? Is that really what you think I sounds like?”

 

Sylar laughed and checked the mirror. The police car was pulling back onto the freeway but it was almost half a mile back.

 

“No, you sound more like, ‘Sylar, you're an asshole’, ‘Don't make me punch you’, ‘Gee, Sylar, what big powers you have!’” his voice was light and lilting, high in a way that he was obviously making fun of Mohinder. 

 

Mohinder fake gasped and real punched Sylar's shoulder. “I do not sound like that!”

 

“Ow!” he exclaimed through a smile. 

 

Mohinder grinned back and turned to look through the back window. 

 

“Are we clear?” Sylar asked, voice still abound with amusement. 

 

Mohinder scanned the thin traffic behind them. “I don't see the car but it couldn't hurt to get off the highway.”

 

Sylar nodded and took the next exit with accommodations listed on the sign. At the stop sign, he moved the seat back and sighed. He raised his hands on the steering wheel and watched as they lightened and his fingers stretched to their proper length. 

 

Mohinder watched his own profile change back to Sylar's - his strong nose, slick hair and stubbled jaw a comfortable sight. The pain crossing his face was unwelcome though, and Mohinder patted Sylar's leg. 

 

Sylar shook the pain off and shifted the car into first, turning to the small block of hotels on the side of the freeway. 

 

“I don't do that a lot, it hurts without continually shifting.”

 

“Sylar …” he commiserated.

 

Sylar gave him a tiny crooked smile. “At least you don't have wisdom teeth anymore. I hate growing those back.”

 

Mohinder nodded. “One of mine was impacted. You wouldn't have wanted it.” They parked and Mohinder paused as he went to open the trunk. “Wait, so when you shift,  _ everything _ changes?”

 

“Every physical thing that makes you you.” Sylar got the bags from the trunk himself. He bumped Mohinder with his hip. “Why, you worried about something?” he teased. 

 

Mohinder opened his mouth but didn't justify the provocation with an answer. 

 

Sylar’s lips brushed the shell of his ear as he added with a slow drawl, “You have  _ nothing _ to be worried about.” He grinned, looking slightly feral, and cocked an eyebrow.

 

Mohinder felt his blood rush right to where he had nothing to worry about. He brushed past Sylar. “Just don't … turn into me again.”

 

Sylar laughed, musical in the late evening silence. “Don't worry darling, that's not an experience I want in the first person.”

 

“Shut up.” Mohinder was a little annoyed that he wasn't annoyed. “You  _ are _ an asshole.”

 

“I never denied it.” He held the motel lobby door open for Mohinder, even though he had all their bags.

 

“Okay, maybe not  _ all _ asshole.”

 

“Hell, if I'm fifty/fifty, I'd say I'm doing pretty good.”

 

Mohinder couldn't help but smile at him. He was making it so hard to not like him. 

 

Sylar asked the desk clerk for two rooms, paying cash, offered it up front so she'd agree. When he poked through his wallet though, he hummed in disappointment. 

 

“We'll take one room, please,” Mohinder told the clerk. While she changed the reservation, Mohinder leaned into Sylar's side. “We'll be fine in one, yeah?”

 

Sylar nodded, looking at him while he paid for the room. 

 

The motel was small and they walked back outside to go to their room. Mohinder turned the key and paused in the doorway. Sylar crowded in behind him, saw the sole king bed, and whistled. “Fuck.”


	19. Chapter 19

After a few minutes of Sylar dancing in the doorway about whether he should get a cot or sleep on the floor or in the car, Mohinder had had enough. He took the bags from Sylar’s arm and grabbed him when his pacing brought him closer. He threw him on the bed. 

 

He himself flopped down on the other side. There was plenty of space. “There. You are impossible.”

 

Tentative, Sylar asked, “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, what's the problem? Why are you being so difficult?” he turned his head and glared. 

 

Sylar shrugged, awkward in his prone position. “I've never shared a bed before.”

 

Mohinder watched him blink at the ceiling. “Did last night.”

 

Sylar turned on his side facing Mohinder and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

Mohinder watched him breathe. His hand curled in the blanket between them. He wanted to wrap it in his own. 

 

“I'm taking a shower,” he said, rolling off the bed. He took his bag with him. 

 

“Okay,” came the cotton-muffled reply. 

  
  
  
  


When he was done, Sylar was gone. 

 

He looked outside and saw the car still there before he turned back to the room and saw a note on Sylar's pillow. 

 

_ Went for a walk.  _

_ Don't hog the blankets _

_ <3 S _

 

He rolled his eyes and looked around the empty room. He hadn’t even brought a book.

 

He booted up his laptop and made himself  comfortable in bed - he stole a pillow from Sylar’s side to surround himself. He worked on his thesis about the eclipse and how the moon's presence may change gene expression in evolved humans until he fell asleep at the keyboard. 

  
  
  
  


He felt rustling in the bed and a gentle pressure against his forehead, sighing at the touch. 

 

“Shh. Sleep.” And he did. 

  
  
  
  
  


He woke up warm and comfortable under the  heavy blankets. He shut his eyes again but felt the warmth of small puffs of breath against his neck. He turned his head and saw Sylar asleep on his pillow. His face was completely relaxed. He looked so young. 

 

He sighed and turned back around, eyes going wide when he felt Sylar's arm tighten around him. His hand was on bare skin where his shirt had ridden up during the night. 

 

Sylar nuzzled his face into his back. “G’back to sleep,” he mumbled. His fingers curled against his skin. He inched closer, knees tucked against the back of Mohinder’s thighs. 

 

Mohinder’s breath staggered as Sylar's deepened, his body relaxing back into sleep. His hand flattened against his stomach, two fingers stretched to his sleep pants’ waistband. 

 

Sylar's body was so hot against his. Mohinder felt the pads of his fingers burning into the soft skin of his belly. He could smell the earthy clean of his shampoo. His arm, at once a comfortable anchor and an infuriating tease, weighed heavy on Mohinder’s torso and mind. 

 

He was surrounded and he felt like he was drowning.

 

Mohinder shifted his legs and stifled a moan in his pillow as he brushed them against his erection. Sylar’s arm tightened around him and he felt his cock twitch. 

 

He couldn't remember waking up so aroused before. 

 

If Mohinder could just - he moved his hips forward, tilting them toward Sylar's hand. If he could move that hand where he wanted it, he could say this was Sylar's fault. He could say Sylar started it. 

 

Sylar did start it. Mohinder had been content to dislike the man forever. He was fine not knowing his quirks, not seeing him genuinely smile, not being the center of his attention anymore. 

 

Fuck Sylar. Fuck, where was his hand?!

 

He  _ was _ fine, but then Sylar came along and fucked it up. Being sweet, being flirtatious, being so damnably sexy. And apparently he was a cuddler. 

 

Mohinder  _ loved _ waking up in a tangle of limbs for a slow morning fuck. 

 

He was halfway there, damnit. 

 

He had to knock it off with Sylar, he was going insane. He had never burned for a man so much before! But, the exception to the rule, there was Sylar. 

 

He had to get the upper hand again. He had to remain in control, to not let Sylar take him over. 

 

But first, he just needed a hand. 

 

One more shift of his hips and he gave up trying to brush his cock against Sylar's fingers. He'd just do it himself. 

 

The whisper of warm breath in his hair made him shiver as he slowly slid his hand from under his pillow, down his body, under the blanket. He toyed with the drawstring on his sleep pants, holding his breath as he untied them. 

 

He slid his hand in, careful to not disturb the blankets, grazing his pubes and running his whole hand against his cock. He pressed it to his leg and squeezed gently, biting his lips.

 

He shifted his hips back and moved his hand in shallow jerks, just enough friction. He felt the muscles twitch in his torso, wanting to thrust forward into his hand and backward against Sylar.

 

Mohinder grasped the blanket with his free hand, holding his breath as his exhalations grew sharp and loud. 

 

Close, so close. 

 

Sylar's hand was hot as a brand, marking him with both heat and possession. He knew he was Sylar's. He was so fucked. 

 

“Stop thinking so loud,” Sylar mumbled behind him. Mohinder stopped moving, stopped breathing, it felt like his heart stopped beating. 

 

His voice cracked out of his throat, “You can't read minds.” Please don't read minds. 

 

“‘s an expression. You're so tense I can't sleep.”

 

Mohinder felt air rush out of his lungs, taking his hand from his cock with what he hoped was a sly full body stretch. His pants snapped on his cockhead, trapping it against his belly, so close to Sylar's draped fingers. 

 

He rolled into his stomach and stretched again, shifting his hips until his pants shimmied up high enough to cover him. His hard cock dragged against the mattress and he tried to hide his moan of desperation and pleasure as one of early morning limbs unfolding. 

 

Sylar's hand splayed against his back, holding him down to the mattress. Mohinder whimpered but hid it with a grunt of discomfort as Sylar used his body as leverage to push himself up. 

 

“Well, since you seem content to end the best sleep I've had in years, I guess I'll shower.” Mohinder could hear the stretch in Sylar's voice and his action was confirmed with the sounds of popping joints. 

 

Mohinder didn't look at him as he jumped from the bed. “No. I get it first.” He near slammed the door behind him, fumbling with the shower’s temperature control as he stripped his clothes one handed. 

 

Under the hot water, he took himself in hand again. He sighed as he stroked, waiting for the water to wash away the feeling of Sylar's large hand pressing him down into the bed. 

 

The feeling stayed on his skin and he came hard against the stall wall. He shook as the water washed everything but the memory of Sylar's touch away. 


	20. Chapter 20

“You finally clean?” Sylar teased him as he slid into the bathroom as Mohinder exited. “That's two showers in twelve hours.”

 

“What do you care,” Mohinder muttered, tossing his bag from his shoulder to the bed. He dug at the bottom for socks. 

 

What the hell was wrong with him? 

 

He had to stop! Either stop or accelerate. He couldn't lose the upper hand. 

 

Sylar cracked opened the door and leaned out of the bathroom while Mohinder was tying his shoes. His bare shoulder caught Mohinder’s eye and he followed the muscles’ curves down to the hand holding his toothbrush. “So where are we going after Victoria?” Sylar asked.

 

Oh shit. He hadn’t even checked. “Hold on,” he said, grabbing his computer and booting it up. 

 

Sylar poked around the corner again and rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers for Mohinder’s attention and crooked it in a come-hither motion as he mumbled “Phone,” around his toothbrush. He pointed to it charging on the nightstand and Mohinder brought it to him. 

 

Sylar spit the toothpaste and grinned, looking only slightly rabid as he eyed Mohinder. 

 

“Get it yourself, next time,” Mohinder grumped. 

 

“I could. But I like having you do things for me,” Sylar winked, unlocking his phone. “What's the code?”

 

Mohinder flipped open his phone and looked at the grainy photos. “Um, g e b a i,” he read off. 

 

Sylar searched, “75219,” and grinned over at Mohinder. “Hope you packed your cowboy boots, we're staying in Texas a while. Dallas.”

 

“Yeehaw,” Mohinder’s voice dripped sarcasm. 

 

Sylar shoved his shoulder lightly, just enough to jostle him. “Knock it off. Why are you so grumpy today?” He ran a comb through his hair, pushing it back and to the side.

 

Mohinder sighed and shook his head. “Must have woken on the wrong side of the bed.”

 

“Well then, you can sleep on mine next time,” Sylar smiled wickedly. Mohinder’s stomach jumped. Sylar rested a hand on Mohinder’s hip and walked him backwards out of the doorway. Mohinder raised his hands but let them hover over Sylar's chest as he was led. 

He let his eyes wander down Sylar's thin body, swallowing thickly as he saw how pale his skin was against the dark hair in the center of his chest. His jeans sat low on his hips and Mohinder wanted to trace his mouth down the path of hair into his pants. 

 

Sylar walked him to the bed and he sank to the mattress. Sylar stood over him, eyes dark and hand heavy on his shoulder. Mohinder’s breath brushed against his stomach as he looked up, eyes catching on the large scar on his ribcage where Hiro had stabbed him. He reached a hand out to touch it but Sylar flinched and backed away. Mohinder turned away, flustered. 

 

“We should go,” Sylar said quietly. “I have to make a couple stops.” Mohinder nodded without asking what. 

 

He stood and saw Sylar standing in front of the window, early morning light tinting his face in bright oranges and dark shadows as he shrugged his coat on. 

 

Mohinder still wanted to kiss down his body. 

 

He shook himself and swept up his bags and laptop, leaving Sylar staring after him as he left the room. He shut down his computer again and sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Sylar to finish checking out. 

 

They drive in silence since Sylar's radio stations had lost signal and the fuzzy reception wouldn't pick anything else up. They were almost alone on the freeway in the early hours of the day. 

 

Sylar pulled into a metropolitan area after an hour on the road. Mohinder leaned on his arms against the window and watched the city roll by. He didn't expect they would stop at a thrift store so he gave Sylar a face when they did. 

 

“Why are we here?”

 

“Treasure hunting,” Sylar answered simply. He walked in without waiting so Mohinder ignored him when he followed suit. He found men's clothes in the corner and scoured for some cleaner shirts. After a bit of wandering around the store, he found a heavy woven blanket as well. 

 

He walked by a haphazard bookcase and grabbed a couple novels, not caring too much what he had grabbed. Just something to occupy his mind. 

 

Taking a few moments to himself had helped his mood so he wandered back up to Sylar, who hadn't left the jewelry counter since they got there. He had a stack of cheap chains and metal rings on the counter in front of him. He glanced over at Mohinder and his armload with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Ta-da,” Mohinder bounced the cloth bundle in his arms. “Treasure.” He set the books down on the counter so he wouldn't drop them. 

 

Sylar reached for a shirt in Mohinder’s arms and shook it out. He held it up between them and closed an eye, the other looking decidedly scepticaly at Mohinder behind the garish shirt. “You're lucky you're cute,” he said, laying the shirt back in Mohinder’s arms. “‘Cause these are hideous.”

 

“Hey! At least I own more than one color, jerk.”

 

“Seriously. Those went out of fashion before I was born. Maybe before  _ you _ were born, old man,” 

 

Mohinder couldn't stop the pout that crossed his face. “How old do you think I am?” Sylar grinned and ran his thumb over Mohinder’s lip. 

 

He asked to see one more ring before he was ready to be rung up. He turned and leaned his elbows on the jewelry counter as the teenage employee rang his purchases super slowly. With a sigh, he pushed off and walked around a display of china and glassware to an entertainment cabinet. Mohinder watched him bend and peruse the CDs before picking up a disk binder and bring the whole thing back to the register with a smile. 

 

“I'll take this too.” The teenager rolled her eyes and called a manager over to haggle with Sylar for the price of the hundred loose disks. Sylar tried to take Mohinder’s purchases and add them to his own but he was denied. 

 

“Get away from me. You called my shirts hideous,” he bought them and the blanket while Sylar smiled. 

 

Mohinder brought the blanket with him to the front seat and Sylar put his bag of costume jewelry at his feet. He flipped through the CD binder and popped a disk in the player. The Beatles broke the silence in the car and they both smiled. 

 

Sylar drove a few miles down the road to an empty parking lot and grabbed his bag off Mohinder’s feet. “Ready for this?” he asked with a grin. Mohinder looked at him questioningly but Sylar was watching the necklace chain he was dangling swing back and forth. “This one still trips me out when I use it,” he said quietly. “Give me your hand.” 

 

Mohinder’s empty stomach clenched when he thought Sylar was about to melt the jewelry right into his waiting hand, cupped under the hanging chain. He thought of shy smiles and nervous flirting from years ago, when Mohinder thought Sylar was a far away threat and Zane Taylor his sweet traveling companion. 

 

Sylar's face went slack and his limbs loosened and Mohinder watched the chain in his hands turn from stainless steel to gold in a moment. He gasped and caught it when Sylar let it go. 

 

He couldn't think of anything to say so he sat and gaped. Sylar chuckled and lifted Mohinder’s chin back up, shutting his mouth with a snap of teeth. 

 

“That's amazing,” he breathed. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “It's flashy.” He picked up another chain from the tangle in the shopping bag and used his alchemic power to turn it to gold before handing it too to Mohinder. 

 

Mohinder held the jewelry up, inspecting it in the sunlight. “One hundred percent gold,” Sylar assured him. 

 

“Does it only work on metal?” Mohinder asked, looking over a transmuted ring Sylar handed him.

 

Sylar opened the car door and picked up a leaf from the ground. He made eye contact with Mohinder and watched him watch the leaf change to gold, shining in metal rays around his fingers. He held it out and smiled as Mohinder cradled it gently in his hands. “For you.”

 

Mohinder could still see the veins in the leaf, a tear in the corner and a tiny hole where the leaf had been an insect’s snack. “This is magnificent.”

 

Sylar shrugged a shoulder and continued changing the chemical compounds of the jewelry in the bag. When he was done, he saw Mohinder was still inspecting the leaf, running his fingers over the surface and rough edges. He patted his leg and pulled out his phone.

 

Mohinder sighed and put the leaf in his lap. “Now what?”

 

“Now we hock this crap and have money again,” Sylar answered, pulling from the parking lot. 

 

“That can't be legal.”

 

“There is not a state with a law that says you can't sell gold created through alchemy. I checked,” he smiled across the car. 

 

“Hmph. Okay then. How are you going to sell that much? That has to be a lot of gold, might look suspicious.”

 

Sylar sniffed and pouted. “My dear old gran just passed and left me, her sole heir, all her estate. And all her debts. I need to pawn her jewelry to pay them off.”

 

Mohinder stared. “You've done this before.”

 

Sylar smiled. “It's this or get a legitimate job, and I won't be in town to hold one down.” He shrugged. “This works just fine.”

 

Mohinder sat with the gold leaf in his lap and watched Sylar sing happily out of the corner of his eyes. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Let's try something new tonight,” Sylar looked up from his phone. Mohinder glanced at him from behind the steering wheel. “There's a new website that lets you rent a room in a person's house.”

 

“Why would you want to do that?”

 

“I've been living hotel to hotel for months, I miss houses. Walls. Rooms.” Sylar shrugged. “Just an idea.”

 

Mohinder thought it over but couldn't see anything wrong with trying it. “Okay.”

 

Sylar smiled and rested his feet on the dash. “Good, I already sent a message to someone in the next town with a room.”

 

Mohinder heaved a sigh. 

 

Sylar's phone buzzed and he texted back and forth some. “We're on. Take the exit two down.”

 

“Don't you want to drive further? It's barely noon.” 

 

“No, I want outta this car. I want to sleep in a bedroom. I want to cook breakfast,” he said wistfully. 

 

He had been on edge since he woke up. And Mohinder definitely had been as well. 

 

“Okay then. But just because you promised me breakfast.” He took a play from Sylar's book and winked at him but Sylar burst out  laughing. “What? You've winked at me, what, eighty times, I do it once and it's that damn funny?”

 

Sylar ran his thumb down Mohinder’s cheek and smiled, looking like he was going to say something. Mohinder brushed him off when he stayed silent. 

 

He took the exit. Sylar directed him to a residential neighborhood, one with a brick half-wall surrounding the complex of cookie cutter houses. 

 

Mohinder pulled in front of the correct house and watched Sylar step out of the car. He should look dead wrong standing in the middle of suburbia, but he just looked comfortable. At ease. More so than Mohinder could remember him ever looking. 

 

He turned to Mohinder with a small smile, taking their bags and running his free hand down Mohinder’s arm. 

 

The door opened as they stood on the sidewalk and a fat fluffy cat ran out. 

 

“Puffball! Goddamit,” a woman stepped out on the porch and looked after the fat running fluff. 

 

Sylar glanced at her. “Penny?” She nodded. “Gabriel, Mohal,” he pointed at himself and Mohinder in turn. “I'll get your cat,” he said as he handed the bags to Mohinder and started down the street after the animal. 

 

Mohinder stared awkwardly after him. Had he really just called him ...

 

“Oh gheeze, that damn animal, I swear.” The woman stepped off her porch and stood next to Mohinder. She turned to him and greeted him brightly. “So you'll be staying with us tonight! That’s so exciting!” She shook Mohinder’s hand and pulled him into a half hug. 

 

“Um. Yes,” he let his unheld hand float over her shoulder and watched Sylar retrieve the cat from a bush. 

 

The cat curled against Sylar's chest, rolling onto his back and kneading the air with fuzzy paws as Sylar rubbed its belly. 

 

“Gabriel,” Penny pulled him into a hug over the happy cat. “Thank you for getting my stupid cat,” she cooed as she booped the tiny feline nose. 

 

“Not a problem. Thank you for allowing us into your house.”

 

“Nonsense. You two are our first guests! This is so exciting!” She led them into the house and Mohinder flashed his eyes at Sylar. Sylar quirked a quick half smile and motioned with his head for Mohinder to enter first. He followed with the purring cat. 

 

They got an enthusiastic tour and Mohinder set their bags down on the bed in the downstairs office-cum-guestroom. Sylar did not set down the cat. 

 

Penny said her husband would be home in a few hours and that they should please get comfortable. 

 

So Mohinder got comfortable. He sat on the bed with a sigh and watched Sylar tickle his new best friend. “Now what do we do?” It was odd to him to be in a stranger's house and he felt very out of place. 

 

Sylar held the cat out to him. Mohinder tried to reign in the laugh he felt in his chest and said, “No thanks, I'm trying to cut back.”

 

“I can pet your belly, if you'd rather.”

 

“Do it and see what happens,” he threatened.

 

They were interrupted by a knock on the wall. Penny stuck her head around the door. “Hey, I'm going to the farmer's market, I was wondering if either of you wanted to go.”

 

Sylar looked up. “I'd love to.” He put Puffball down and ran his fingers through his fur. The cat jumped into his touch. He turned to Mohinder. “Could you pick some things up? I'm out of shampoo and my razor is dull,” he scratched at the stubble on his jaw. 

 

Mohinder nodded. “Great. I'll text you a list,” Sylar said, running his hand through Mohinder’s hair as he walked by. 

 

He was caught by surprise and exhaled hard in pleasure, wanting to lean up into the touch until he remembered, “Hey, I'm not the cat!”

 

Sylar's eyes smiled as he retorted, “You sure bristle like one,” and he was out the door. 

 

He sat in the empty room, twirling his keys around his finger and waiting for Sylar's text. 

 

Puffball came back to sit in front of his feet, meowing a tiny meow. 

 

Mohinder looked at him. “This week has been so bizarre, cat.” He bent with his fingers out for the cat to sniff. Puffball rejected his move for pets and sauntered from the room. 

 

His phone buzzed. 

 

_ Shampoo _

_ Razor _

_ Socks please not white _

_ Orange juice _

_ And get a socket kit for your damn car _

_ It's got a noise  _

_ Not gonna last forever _

 

_ I haven't heard anything. Are you sure? _

 

_ Fixing broken things is what I do _

_ Get money from my bag _

_ Penny says take the housekey in the potted plant out front _

 

_ Where do you suppose I get all this?  _

 

_ You got this Brains _

_ I believe in you _

_ <3 S _

 

Mohinder grabbed cash and after a thought, Sylar's coat, grabbed the hidden key and took his car that apparently had a noise and a short life span into town and promptly got lost. 

  
  
  
  


Mohinder opened the front door hours and heard Sylar laughing. Penny's ringing laugh joined his and she leaned out the kitchen doorway to wave. 

 

“Perfect timing!” she said as Mohinder hung Sylar's coat on a hook by the door. He set the drugstore bag on the floor by his shoes. The smells from the kitchen were delicious. “Your boyfriend made dinner.”

 

“My …” he walked in the kitchen and there indeed was Sylar, apron on and knife in hand, chopping herbs on a tiny cutting board. 

 

He looked up and smiled sweetly at Mohinder.  “Hey, Mohal, perfect. Could you sir the soup?” He shook his head to the simmering pot on the stovetop. Mohinder looked at him sideways as he turned to follow directions. 

 

“How was your afternoon, baby?” Sylar asked. 

 

Sylar was taking his games too far. But Mohinder could play, too. 

 

He turned from the stockpot and ran his hand up Sylar's back. He kissed him behind his ear, reveling in the shiver he felt run down Sylar's back. “Fine. I got everything we need. This looks amazing. What are you making?” he asked Penny at Sylar's elbow. 

 

“I'm making a mess!” she laughed. “Gabriel made squash soup and Brussels sprouts that do  _ not  _ look like my grandmother's. They look like food you'd see on TV.” She sounded positively awed. 

 

Sylar chuckled. Mohinder could feel it reverberate through his body pressed against his own. “We found some nice things at the farmer's market. Should be good. I have dessert in the oven, too,” he winked at Mohinder. 

 

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but perk up at the thought of dessert. 

 

“What can I help with?”

 

Sylar laughed again and gently pushed him away. “Nothing, you'll burn everything just looking at it.”

 

“Hey, I'm not that bad a cook,” he pouted and leaned on the counter away from the cooks. “I'm just … not well-practiced.”

 

Sylar grinned at him. 

 

“Mohal, that's such a beautiful name,” Penny said, voice dreamy. 

 

Mohinder cleared his throat. “Uh yeah, thank you.”

 

“Does it mean anything?”

 

Mohinder turned to Sylar, grinning as he worked on dinner. 

 

“It means, uh, attractive.”

 

“Beautiful. Desired,” Sylar added, back turned to them. Mohinder could hear the smile on his lips though. 

 

“Oh, your mother named you beautiful? That's wonderful,” she cooed.

 

“ _ Someone _ named me.” He glared at Sylar, whose grin grew as he worked. 

 

“Aww. So Gabriel says you're from New York? That's so neat! Gotta be a change, bein’ out here,” Penny’s perky attitude was infectious. Very infectious, if Sylar's wide smile and slightly dancing hips were indicative. 

 

Mohinder watched Sylar move gracefully around the small kitchen and answered. “Yes. Well, he is, I live there now, but I grew up in India.”

 

“Wow, I've never been out of the country.”

 

“It's very nice there. If you get a chance to travel, I'd recommend it.”

 

“He still needs to take me,” Sylar said. “I've only ever been to Mexico.”

 

“Oh, how was that?” Penny asked. 

 

Sylar took a deep breath. “I would not recommend going the way I did. But that's just my experience, I wouldn't judge a whole country by one bad time.” Mohinder saw his expression shut down a little, closing off and clamming up.

 

“Aww,” Penny touched his elbow. “Maybe you'll get to go back.”

 

The front door opened and Mohinder jumped, startled. Sylar paused, knife hovering over the cutting board.

 

A man's voice rang up the hallway, “Honey, I'm home! Smells great, who kidnapped you and put a cook in my kitchen?” A redhead man came through the kitchen door and measured up Sylar. “Tall, dark and knifey, what're you doing in my kitchen? Wife, there are men in our kitchen,” he stage whispered, leaning into Penny. 

 

“Hi,” Mohinder waved lamely, Sylar waving the knife in what actually looked more like a salute than a threat. He was just full of surprises. 

 

“Honey, we finally have guests!” She introduced them and they both shook hands with him. 

 

“Charles. Please don't call me that, Charles is my granddad. You can call me Chuck.” Mohinder held out his right hand and Sylar his left and Chuck grinned as he shook their hands at the same time. “I didn't think we'd ever have anyone use that room.”

 

“Thank you for letting us stay, we really appreciate your hospitality,” Mohinder said, hoping Chuck would end their handshake someday. 

 

He laughed, low and deep, when he heard Mohinder talk. He dropped Sylar's hand and wrapped both hands around Mohinder’s, to his great chagrin. “Wow, with a voice like that, I bet you have girls lining up!”

 

Mohinder opened his mouth but nothing came out. Sylar was laughing at him, watching from behind Chuck’s head. Penny saved him, stomping her husband's foot and throwing her head back at Sylar. She flashed her eyes toward Mohinder and the cogs in his brain clicked in. 

 

“Oh. Oh!” he gave Mohinder’s hand a few more hearty pumps before turning to Sylar, surprising him with a thump on the stomach as he was distracted cutting basil. “Oohhhh,” Chuck dragged out jovially. He laughed again as he left the room. 

 

Sylar, knife paused in midair, glanced at Mohinder with wide eyes. Mohinder shook his head and mouthed  _ you did this,  _ pointing at Sylar's chest. Sylar shut his eyes and breathed deep before taking the blade to the herbs again. 

 

Dinner was surprisingly good. Mohinder had never had butternut squash as a soup before but he would definitely have it again. And the caramelized onion in the sprouts took the vegetables to another level. 

 

Even Chuck enjoyed it. “I never thought I'd say it, but I don't even miss the meat right now!” 

 

Sylar laughed and brought out dessert - little apple cinnamon tartlets and ice cream. He served Mohinder first, pressing a kiss to his temple as he leaned over him. 

 

Mohinder grabbed his arm as he stood and pulled him back down, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek where he had the day prior. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

 

Sylar's eyes had fluttered shut at the touch of Mohinder’s lips. He sighed and pulled back reluctantly. 

 

Mohinder’s stomach flipped as he watched Sylar blink.

 

Mohinder cleared the dishes when they were done, insisting that he do them. His hands were shaking a little, he needed to use them. Sylar sidled up to him at the sink and grabbed the sponge from Mohinder’s hand, delegating him to rinsing duty. 

 

Mohinder leaned into him “Boyfriend?” he asked, sharp and quiet. “Isn't that a bit presumptuous of you?” He took a plate roughly from Sylar’s hand and rinsed it, setting it to dry on the counter. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “She assumed and I didn't correct her. Gave us a story.” His voice was a low rumble. 

 

“And you've been filling in the blanks of that story all afternoon, haven't you? Anything I should know about us before I blow it?” he was getting more upset. 

 

“No, darling, just be your charming self. You need to relax,” he bumped Mohinder with his hip. 

 

“And you need to stop that!” He bumped back. 

 

“You're very high strung. I can help you relax.” He quirked his eyebrows. 

 

“What are you playing at?” he said between gritted teeth. 

 

Sylar shook his head and handed him a soapy plate. “Nothing. I'm always honest with you.”

 

“Always?” Mohinder scoffed. 

 

“Well, minus a couple of times, gheeze. I'm honest  _ now _ .”

 

They watched each other for a moment: Mohinder with a glare, Sylar with half closed eyes. Mohinder cracked first and looked away. Sylar grinned and hit him with his hip again. 

 

Without looking at him, Mohinder asked, “Seriously though, what do you want with me?”

 

Quietly, Sylar answered, “Just this.”

 

“Dish duty?”

 

“Domestic bliss,” Sylar said in his ear. Mohinder shivered at the brush of his lips. 

 

He heard Penny behind them, putting away leftovers. He took a step back from Sylar and rinsed the silverware in silence. Sylar ran hot water over the stack of dishes that needed soaking, an oily mixing bowl on top. 

 

Waiting for more dishes to rinse, Mohinder reached around Sylar's back for a dish towel, far along the counter. He braced himself with a hand on Sylar's hip and leaned into him to reach. Sylar stopped breathing and hovered a soapy hand over Mohinder. 

 

The soaking dishes in the sink toppled, sending the bowl full of water toward the counter but Sylar held up a hand and stopped its movement telekinetically. The splashing water appeared to hit an invisible wall and rolled back into the bowl with a tiny wave. 

 

They heard something drop behind them and stared at each other with wide eyes in the following silence. 

 

Mohinder turned slowly around and saw Penny watching them, Tupperware at her feet, shock clear on her face. “You're …” she pointed to Sylar. 

 

“Shit,” Sylar muttered. 

 

Mohinder looked at him and back at Penny, who had turned her finger to him. Sylar glanced at him and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Ignoring him, Mohinder grabbed a pot from the drying dishes and crushed it with one hand, eyes on Penny.

 

“Oh my god,” she said. “Oh my god!” 

 

Sylar turned off the water and set down the sponge. Mohinder gripped the crushed pot and hoped like hell shit wasn't about to get real. 

 

“Oh my god, you guys, that's so cool!” Penny pressed her hands to her mouth. “Wow, I've only met a couple evos before!”

 

Mohinder tried to slow his breathing back to normal and slowly lowered the cookware. 

 

“My cousin’s one, and Chuck’s best friend, and our neighbour. And now you guys! So cool!” she jumped once and clapped her hands. 

 

“You've probably met more of us, we're just quiet about it,” Sylar said. 

 

“Oh yeah, you're right,” Penny sat on the stepstool tucked in the corner. “Wow.” She waved her hands in front of her face. “I won't tell anyone about you two, I promise.”

 

Sylar put a hand on his hip. “Yeah? ‘Cause you just outed your cousin, Chuck’s best friend, and your neighbor,” he ticked off on his fingers. “And nobody likes to be outed.” 

 

Mohinder felt the hairs on his neck stand up as Sylar counted the evos off. The last thing he wanted Sylar to have was a list of powered people. 

 

“Oh shit,” Penny’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh damn, I'm always running my mouth, Chuck says.”

 

Mohinder watched Sylar as he said, “It's not a huge deal to me personally, I'm just trying to stay off larger radars. Not everyone thinks we're … safe.” If he was plotting murder, Mohinder couldn't see it. 

 

“Oh damn, I know. I watch the news.”

 

Sylar nodded. “So you see our problem. You know our secret.”

 

Mohinder’s heart raced as he gripped the pot harder. He felt it crack and Sylar turned to see him, practically vibrating with potential energy. He was ready to take Sylar down if he attacked the woman. 

 

Sylar held his hand out, saying quietly, “I'm only letting friends know what we are. So I guess that makes us friends, Penny.” He gestured with his hand and she shook it with a smile. Mohinder held his breath but no attack followed the handshake. Sylar did raise a finger to Penny’s face and added, “And friends don't blab.”

 

Penny nodded, “Of course. Your secret is safe.” She smiled and Sylar returned the gesture, even though it did not reach his eyes. 

 

Mohinder relaxed and held the pot up to inspected the damage. “I'll, uh, buy you a new one,” he offered. 

 

“No, no, no, that was crap anyway. I don't mind replacing one little pot in return for two new friends,” she smiled and shook Mohinder’s hand. Sylar took the mangled metal from his hand and shoved it in the trash. His eyes were wide as he watched Mohinder, almost scared. 

 

Penny turned back to the counter, picking up the plastic container on the floor. Sylar took it from her to wash. He didn't look away from Mohinder; he asked, “Are we cool?” as he leaned close, voice wavering. Mohinder shrugged, not trusting his words with someone else in the room. 

 

Sylar sighed and turned back to the dishes, pressing Mohinder to do the same with a hand on his back. 

 

They finished in silence and Mohinder excused himself to the guest room. Sylar followed a moment later and shut the door. Mohinder sat on the bed heavily and Sylar fell to his knees in front of him. 

 

“Mohinder -” he started, but was cut off. 

 

“What was that?” Mohinder snapped. “What are you going to do?”

 

Sylar looked at him with a serious expression. “Nothing. What do you expect I'll do?”

 

“You have three people with powers you could be chasing after, are you going to?”

 

“No! Mohinder, no, I told you I don't do that anymore.” He shook his head and rested his hands on Mohinder’s thighs, only to be brushed off. “I've obtained one new power in the last couple years, and that was a mistake. I can take them without killing, but I am trying so hard not to.”

 

“Why?” Mohinder asked skeptically. 

 

Sylar looked down at his knees. “Because it's not satisfying. It's not what I want.”

 

After a pause, Mohinder asked, “How do you take them?” 

 

“Empathetically. If I understand a person, what makes them tick - excuse the watchmaker humor -” he said wryly, “I know why they have their power and how to take it.”

 

“And you've taken powers this way before.” Sylar nodded. “Why don't you want any more?”

 

“I will not become the all powered last man on earth. I am in charge of my own destiny, no matter what anyone else says or saw.”

 

“Hiro.”

 

Sylar nodded. “The man he saw in the future will not be who I become.”

 

With a sigh, Mohinder said, “I really wish I could believe you.”

 

“I wish you would.”

 

Mohinder looked away. He felt Sylar’s hand graze his shin and glanced back. 

 

“I need some air. Want to go outside with me?”

 

He needed to make sure Sylar wasn't going to do something stupid, so he picked a sweater out of the mess of his bag and followed outside. Sylar laid down in the grass and stared at the stars, hands behind his head. 

 

Mohinder sat next to him. 

 

They were silent for a long time before Sylar said, “I sometimes forget to take moments like this. I'm scared I'll have these moments alone forever.” His voice was small amongst the night sounds. 

 

Mohinder looked down at him, eyes shining in the dark. He brushed his hand through Sylar's hair, breaking apart the gel’s hold and running through soft strands until Sylar closed his eyes. 


	22. Chapter 22

Sylar didn't look up from his book until Mohinder stopped at the offramp light. 

 

“Where are we going?” They were still hundreds of miles from Victoria but it was hours since Mohinder had woken up alone in the bed to the smell of the quiche Sylar had made the house. 

 

Breakfast had been good and the tension between the two had morphed back into tense and lustful with one shy smile from Sylar as he served Mohinder. 

 

“Snacks,” Mohinder answered simply as he tried to shake the morning's fog from his head. 

 

“Okay.” Sylar marked his page and watched the scenery until Mohinder pulled the car into a convenience store parking lot. 

 

They entered the store and Mohinder was welcomed with the familiar sounds of his own tongue. The sole employee was sitting behind the register reading the newspaper in English and listening to the news in Tamil. 

 

He greeted them without looking at them, turned the page, and glanced up. Seeing Mohinder, he said hello in Tamil cautiously. 

 

Mohinder smiled, slipped into his native tongue, and said hello back. The man warmed instantly and they conversed while Sylar watched them, head turning back and forth. Mohinder looked and saw him staring at his mouth. He smiled a little. 

 

He switched to English and told Sylar to get him chocolate milk; Sylar jumped at the change and shook his head clear as he walked to the coolers. 

 

Mohinder kept conversation with the clerk light. He tried to avoid talking about news since news was never good. 

 

Sylar swept through the store slowly, aisle by aisle. Mohinder saw he was paying close attention to their voices. 

 

Or to his voice, specifically. He spoke a little louder and a little more clear and watched as Sylar practically perked his ears. 

 

He paid for Sylar's armload of snacks and drinks and thanked the man at the register. It was a treat to talk with someone in Tamil again. 

 

They got in the car and Sylar wouldn't look away. 

 

“What?” he was getting unnerved under the attention. 

 

“That was beautiful. What language is that?”

 

Mohinder told him and Sylar asked what they had talked about. 

 

Mohinder shrugged. “The weather, traffic. Where we've been, where we're going. Where he and I used to live.”

 

Sylar shifted in the seat and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Can you talk to me? In Tamil?”

 

“Why? You don't understand, do you?”

 

He shook his head. “I just … like listening to you. And that was gorgeous.”

 

“I don't know what to say.” 

 

“Tell me a story. Give me a lecture. Hell, tell me a secret, I'll never know,” he pled. 

 

Mohinder sighed.  _ <I really don't know what to say. This is rediculous.> _

 

Sylar huffed and his eyes darted between Mohinder’s own and his lips. 

 

Mohinder quirked a tiny smile. _ <You're rediculous.> _

 

“Keep going. Please.”

 

So he did.  _ <I can't believe I'm doing this. Any of this. I can't believe I'm halfway across the country with you. I can't believe you have me talking basically to myself while you just sit there.> _ Mohinder thought for a moment, and cocked his head. He took the minor risk of asking,  _ <Are you getting off on this?> _

 

Of course Sylar didn't answer. Mohinder could feel him watching and he wanted to turn to see so bad. He looked out the windshield instead. 

 

_ <I bet you are. I know you are. Why would you ask me to do anything you don't get something from,> _ he said, feeling forlorn.  _ <You play your stupid games, you  _ **_tease_ ** _ me. > _ He couldn't help but to turn, facing Sylar as he blamed him. 

 

His eyes were wide and unfocused, his breathing was shallow. Sylar shifted his legs. Mohinder felt his own body react, seeing how Sylar was losing control. 

_ <You keep playing these games, but you're playing yourself just as bad.> _ He bit back his aggravation. _ <I've always known of your infatuation with me. I know you asked me to talk to you because it's making you hard.> _ He glared. _ <Are you going to get off to this later? A little memory for you to savor?> _

 

Emboldened, he looked hard in Sylar's eyes.  _ <You want secrets, I have some for you. I wanted you when we first met. I would have invited you in my hotel room and in me if you had only asked. When I knew who you were, I still strived for your attention.> _ He turned in the seat, facing Sylar. Sylar mirrored his movement, thigh pressed against the gearshift as he leaned closer.

 

_ <You give me this power over you and I relish it. Seeing you weak for me is like a drug - I can't say no when you look at me like that. When you asked me to come here with you, you pleaded and I caved because seeing you weak is what I crave most.> _ He could feel his expressions show too much but he was too far gone with his admissions to stop.  _ <Being your weakness turns me on so much.> _ His heart was racing. 

 

_ <Did you know that? Did you know you turn me on? I'm sure you do.> _ He leaned forward, eyes on Sylar's parted lips.  _ <I could kiss you right now. You wouldn't stop me. You want me to. Fuck, you're beautiful.  _ **_I_ ** _ want to. > _

 

He leaned closer and Sylar closed his eyes. Mohinder laid his hand low on Sylar's thigh as he said quietly in his ear,  _ <For the longest time I thought I could fuck you out of my system. To see you fall apart for me, to know I have the power to bring you to your knees. I thought it would be your ultimate defeat.> _

 

He licked his dry lips and continued, voice low and melodic and sad,  _ <But it would be my defeat.> _

 

His stomach dropped as he said,  _ <Sylar, I hate you.> _

 

A shiver ran through Sylar's body: Mohinder could feel his thigh twitch with it under his hand. He moved it off and to the center consol between them. 

 

“Fuck,” Sylar swore, stretching his shoulders. “Were you playing two truths and a lie?” He opened his eyes and looked at Mohinder through heavy eyelashes. “‘Cause that last one was a doozy.” He shivered again, from his neck down his arms. 

 

“Fuck you,” Mohinder growled in English. “Fuck you, Sylar!” he hit the steering wheel with his palms and breathed hard, rocking between lust and frustration. 

 

Sylar blinked in shock. “What?”

 

“Is that a power? You can fucking translate?”

 

“No! I don't know what you said, but I could sense your lie! I didn't do it on purpose, wasn't even trying to.”

 

Mohinder twisted his hands around the steering wheel, wrenching the leather back and forth. “I didn't lie,” he gritted through clenched teeth. 

 

“Sorry, but I'm gonna call your bluff there.” His was so cocky. 

 

“I didn't lie!” he screamed at Sylar. He got out of the car and seethed, kicking at the pavement. 

 

Sylar gave him a moment before following him out of the car. He leaned against the grill. Looking at the ground, he asked, “What did you say?”

 

Mohinder ignored him. 

 

“Mohinder.”

 

“Nothing of consequence,” he snapped. 

 

Sylar held his hand up and twisted it by his head. “Lie.”

 

Mohinder pushed him. “Stop it.” Sylar caught himself on the hood of the car before he hit the ground. He gracefully pushed himself back up. 

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Secrets, asshole, you told me to tell you secrets.” He stepped closer to Sylar and glared up at him. 

 

Sylar smiled, wry. “Is that why it felt like we were having a  _ moment _ ?” 

 

“Fuck you! Is this why you brought me here? To mess with me? To fuck me up? For what, to play  _ house _ with you?”

 

Sylar stretched to his full height and gritted his teeth as he glared down at Mohinder. “If that was it, maybe I'd be getting a little something from you,” he said slowly, dripping in suggestion. 

 

“Is  _ that _ really why you brought me?” He was livid. 

 

Sylar's face fell. “Mohinder. No. No, I'm sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.”

 

“Well that's what came out.”

 

“Please,” he moved his hand to rest on Mohinder’s arm but pulled back. “That was way out of line, that's not -”

 

Mohinder held up his hand but felt himself start to deflate. He didn't want to hear Sylar apologize. 

 

He didn't want to not hate Sylar. 

 

Life was so much easier when he had. Now he was a volatile tangle of emotions. 

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar said meekly. “Mohinder, please, don't shut me out.”

 

“Get in the car, Sylar.”

 

He lingered until Mohinder opened his own door and got in. They sat in silence. 

 

Mohinder pulled out of the spot too fast, tires squealing as he hit the street. Sylar turned the radio off and they flew onto the freeway again. 

 

Mohinder’s thoughts were rattling. He hated Sylar … right? Everything else he felt was just a distraction. 

 

Damn it. 

 

He knew he didn't hate him. Not fully. Not any more. 

 

He hit the steering wheel with his palm. Sylar looked up at him.

 

What was the difference between Sylar using his voice, his words, for his own pleasure and Mohinder masturbating while he was in the man's damn arms? Trying to rut against him while he slept? 

 

Mohinder hit his forehead on the steering wheel. The difference was that Sylar wasn't the bad guy in the car right then. 

 

He felt the steering wheel move incrementally and looked up, seeing that Sylar had it under his power's control. 

 

“Are you okay?” Sylar asked, worried. Mohinder shook his head and took back control of the car. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Mohinder said. 

 

“For what?” Sylar turned to him, hand resting loosely on the gearshift between them. 

 

He choked. “For being an asshole.” He couldn't bring himself to tell Sylar everything he wanted to apologize for. For trying to force himself on him. For not trusting him. For hating him so long. For lying. 

 

“Me too. God, me too,” Sylar laughed, sounding uncomfortable. “I really didn't want to be a jerk. I didn't think before I spoke.”

 

“Neither did I. And I used a language barrier against you.”

 

“No you didn't.” Mohinder looked up and Sylar was half grinning, eyes soft. “I asked for that. The mood swing was all you though,” he added as a joke. Mohinder could hear wariness in his voice and rested his hand over Sylar's on the gearshift. Sylar spread his fingers and let them intertwine. 

 

The lane opened up and Mohinder shifted to fifth, Sylar's arm lax and allowing him the movement. 

 

He looked away from traffic for a moment and into Sylar's eyes. “I have something very important to ask you.”

 

“Anything,” Sylar said quietly. 

 

Mohinder tried to slow the skip in his heartbeat and squeezed Sylar's hand. “Did you get me fruit gummies?”

 

Sylar looked at him crazy before bursting into laughter. He reached into the bag by his feet and held up the fruit snacks. “I don't know how you eat this crap, it's all chemical and sugar.”

 

“The sugar’s the important part.”

 

Sylar sighed and held the bag, slicing it open with telekinesis. 

 

“That's a frivolous use of powers,” Mohinder chided. 

 

“Nothing's frivolous if it makes your eyes do that thing.” His voice was light as he smiled. 

 

“What thing? You're not even looking.”

 

“Your whole face lights up, especially your eyes.” He looked up and grinned. “See?”

 

“Shut up.” He reached for the bag. Sylar pulled it back and tightened his grip on Mohinder’s hand. 

 

“Truce?”

 

Mohinder sighed. “Truce.”

 

Sylar smiled and kissed the back of Mohinder’s hand before giving him the candies. 


	23. Chapter 23

They checked in to a hotel in Victoria just before seven. Sylar made sure to get a room with two beds.

 

Sylar set the bags down on the bed closest to the door and sat to untie his boots. Mohinder fell face first into the other bed sideways. He was half asleep when he heard Sylar say he was showering. 

 

“Mmibeg,” Mohinder mumbled into the comforter. 

 

“What?” Sylar touched his shoulder and he rolled his face to the side. 

 

“My bag. I have your stuff.”

 

“Oh, great,” he said, turning to shuffle through Mohinder’s clothes to find the shopping bag he had stuffed inside. He took a razor and looked at the shampoo bottle in his hand.

 

“I didnt know what you used. There's a bar of soap in there, too, if you need.” He was watching Sylar, head pillowed on his crossed arms. “They smelled like you,” he added, feeling silly. 

 

He had spent way too long smelling every cleaning product he could find while he was lost shopping in Penny and Chuck’s town. He ended up paying an obscene amount for organic shampoo and handmade soap but they smelled like Sylar would like them. 

 

“Thank you,” Sylar said, sounding touched. 

 

Mohinder closed his eyes and heard something thump to the carpet. He kicked at something tugging his foot and glanced back up when it kept pulling. 

 

Sylar was on his knees untieing his shoes as his feet dangled off the bed.

 

“Hey,” he protested weakly. 

 

“Shush. If you're gonna sleep, be comfortable.” He tucked his shoes under the bed. Mohinder closed his eyes again with a sigh. The sigh deepened to a groan as Sylar dug his thumbs into his insteps in small circles. He arched his feet into the touch, his whole body stretching in pleasure. 

 

He felt Sylar’s hand trail up his leg as he stood. He fell asleep. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mohinder woke to Sylar rubbing his shoulder, his touch light and rhythmic. 

 

“Hey.” Sylar tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I'm going out, see if I can find anything. You want to come?”

 

“Mmhmm.” He rolled over and stretched, seeing Sylar's eyes slip to his exposed skin as his shirt rode up. He stretched further, arching his back and turned his head away before he was caught watching Sylar watch him. 

 

He sighed and sat up, blinking his eyes fully open. “Where are we going?” he yawned. 

 

“What, you didn't think of anything while you slept? Gheeze, what good are you,” Sylar teased. 

 

Mohinder flipped him off and went for his turn in the shower. He took a handful of cleanish clothes with him. 

 

He used the ambiguous complementary hotel soap again and thought about upgrading to a signature scent. 

 

He shaved the stubble coming in itchy under his chin and combed his hair into submission. He scoured his reflection for anything that would explain why his skin felt wrong but he looked just the same as always. He must be going crazy. 

 

As he dressed, he realized he hadn't grabbed a shirt. He left the bathroom half naked and watched Sylar ignore him through the corner of his eye. 

 

“Please don't wear anything from the seventies,” Sylar snarked as he shook out his shirts. 

 

He slid one on, a button up with a light floral pattern. “Where are we going?” He repeated his last question as he shook the collar out, straightening the shirt before he started up the buttons. 

 

Sylar looked up and Mohinder could see him swallow hard from across the room. He smiled and left the last couple buttons undone. 

 

“Uh. The uh, murders were all in populated areas.” He looked away and his voice got stronger. “Loud. The killer is bold. Let's see where the local night life is, maybe scope out possible sites.”

 

“It is Saturday night,” Mohinder agreed. He sat to slip his shoes back on. 

 

He looked at Sylar, fiddling with the magazines and pamphlets laid out on the desk. With his black shirt tucked in to dark jeans just too tight to wear his boots under, he should have looked rediculous, but he looked delicious. Mohinder wanted to lick his neck from collar to hairline. 

 

“Let's go,” he trailed a finger down Sylar's hand, curling around his finger. He bit his lip to control his tongue. 

 

They rode the elevator down, Sylar standing stiff with his hands in his pockets. 

 

“Good evening, gentlemen, can I help you with anything?” the boy manning the front desk asked as they crossed the lobby. 

 

Mohinder glanced at Sylar and answered, “Actually, yes.”

 

“We were wondering what there is to do in town tonight,” Sylar finished. 

 

The boy looked them over. “There's a couple places you might be interested in a few miles into town,” he said, rattling off directions. Sylar nodded and drove them downtown. 

 

It took a while to find parking but they did. People were everywhere, enjoying the warm early spring night. Mohinder rolled up his sleeves and watched them - groups and couples, laughing and smiling. 

 

He looked over at Sylar, knowing he didn't like crowds. He looked at ease, though, tossing the car keys up and down. 

 

Mohinder read the business signs and pointed to one down the street. “Isn't that one of the places he said?”

 

Sylar nodded and brushed his hand down Mohinder’s back as they walked through the crowd in front to the door. The music pouring from the building was thick with bass, rattling in Mohinder’s chest. They got their IDs ready for the doorman, Mohinder hoping his fake would pass inspection. He looked in Sylar's hand and hoped his would too. 

 

Sylar turned to watch the people on the street and Mohinder looked over the flyers on the wall. He saw a small die cut sticker of Texas in rainbow colors declaring ‘safe space’ on the door and leaned into Sylar's arm for his attention. “Is this a gay bar?”

 

“Club. The music,” he explained the obvious and Mohinder rolled his eyes. “That cool?” he asked, eyes meeting Mohinder’s. 

 

“Yeah. I've never been before.”

 

Sylar just looked at him. 

 

The doorman let them both in and Mohinder tried not to flinch with the volume in the club. He turned to Sylar and spoke almost against his ear, asking, “Are you alright?” Sylar looked confused so Mohinder touched his own ears and raised his eyebrows, miming Sylar's enhanced hearing. 

 

Sylar smiled, touched at the concern. He leaned into Mohinder’s hair. “I can control it.”

 

The club was packed. Sylar's lips brushed his ear as he asked, “Drink?”

 

“I'm good for now, thanks.”

 

He shivered as Sylar wrapped his hand around his arm. “I'm going to check this place out.” 

 

Mohinder nodded. “I'll find you.”

 

“You better.” His lips grazed Mohinder’s temple as he took a step back, a coy smile on his lips as he turned and disappeared in the dancefloor crowd. 

 

Mohinder ran a hand through his hair and shivered down to his toes. Fuck. He did need a drink. 

 

He pushed to the bar and ordered after a long wait, watching the bartender overpour his liquor. He overtipped in gratitude. 

 

Watching the club crowd around him made Mohinder feel older than he had ever felt.  The pounding music grated through his head, the whisky in his drink burnt up his nose and down his throat, and the next person to bump into him was going to get a harsh retaliatory elbow. He felt lost in the bodies pushing to the bar so he moved closer to the dance floor for escape. 

 

He looked for Sylar but couldn't find him.

 

He turned around and right into a large man. “Hey, gorgeous. Buy you a drink?” He ran a hand down Mohinder’s arm. 

 

The same arm holding his full drink. 

 

He shook the man off and motioned with his glass. “No thanks, I have one.”

 

“Oh, you sound as gorgeous as you look. Let's bring that drink to the back and talk, honey,” he tried, undeterred. 

 

“Thanks, but I'm looking for someone.” He made a show of standing on his toes and surveying the crowd again. Still no Sylar. “Tall, dark and dangerous? He stands out, have you seen him?” Couldn't hurt to try. 

 

“Honey, all I see is you tonight.” His country twang was slow and deliberate. 

 

“Stop,” Mohinder threw his hands up. “I'm flattered, but I'm really not interested, I'm sorry.”

 

The man mimicked Mohinder’s pose. “Okay, sorry man, really.”

 

Mohinder shook his head. “It's fine. Have a nice night,” he pressed through the thickest group of bodies on the dance floor to mask his escape. 

 

The man had said something about a back of the club and Mohinder decided to look there. He drained his drink and set the glass down on a tiny table by someone's elbow. 

 

Off the dance floor, the music changed into something darker and more sensual, and the lighting was in dull violets and reds, with highlights of yellow sconces on pillars draped with black cloth. Must be the back. 

 

There were clusters of plush low back chairs and scattered tables. Small raised platforms the size for a couple people to dance on. And a bar. 

 

Mohinder ordered a double shot and threw it back. He was far too sober.

 

From the bar, he looked over the back of the club. The pillars and chairs added a sense of privacy that couples were definitely taking advantage of. He was starting to feel like a creep looking them over but then he saw Sylar. 

 

And he definitely felt like a creep. 

 

Sylar was dancing on one of the platforms, in the far corner of the room. He had his shirt open and arms over his head, hair falling into his face as sweat loosened the gel’s hold. His hips were swaying to the beat and he leaned back. His skin glowed under the dim lights. 

 

Mohinder’s heart raced and his mouth went dry watching Sylar undulate on the stage. He wanted to be up there with him, wanted to grind against him and taste his skin. 

 

Dark hands emerged from inside the loose fabric of his shirt and up the center of his chest. Mohinder could see the man Sylar was leaning back into, body pressed tight to Sylar's as they swayed with opposite rhythms. 

 

The bottom of Mohinder’s stomach dropped and he regretted the whisky. 

 

Mohinder was walking over to them before he knew he was standing. He watched as Syler closed his eyes and arched his back, grinding his ass behind him as the stranger held onto his hips and leaned back. 

 

Mohinder was so hard. 

 

Mohinder was so fucked. 

 

“Gabriel!” he shouted over the music. 

 

Sylar's eyes fluttered open and he smiled down at Mohinder. He reached out a hand, trailing just out of Mohinder’s reach as he stood back, pulling his dance partner in close with a hand around the back of his bald head. Mohinder looked at the contrast of their skin and forgot to breath. Sylar looked like cream poured against brown skin. 

Sylar was talking to the stranger but Mohinder couldn't hear, could only watch his lips move. He saw the other man grin and look at Mohinder, lips moving close to Sylar's ears with a reply. He took a step back, body no longer grinding against Sylar's, but kept dancing with a hand on his hip. 

 

“Come here,” Sylar ordered, hand stretched out again. Mohinder took it and was pulled up to the platform. He pressed a hand to Sylar's chest over his shirt for balance. Sylar's hands found his hips, thumbs circling in the indents of his illiac crests, long fingers circling around his ass, gently kneading the flesh. 

 

“I've been waiting for you,” he said lowly into Mohinder’s ear. Mohinder shivered, feeling the words trail down his spine and settle in his cock. If Sylar pulled him any closer, he'd know intimately how hard he had him. “You have to feel this.” All Mohinder could feel was Sylar's lips brushing his ear. 

 

He shut his eyes and felt hands wrap around his face. He felt euphoric, mind starting to float. Sylar's hands were moving up his back and under his shirt, burning into his skin and Mohinder leaned into them but the hands on his face he opened his eyes and saw the stranger looking at him from Syler’s shoulder his eyes wide like Mohinder could drown then and there in them and he stopped breathing and everything was good so good he was so hard he was so fucked he was so Syler’s and the air was so thick and he couldn't breathe couldn't breathe Sylar was holding him under his arms the man was holding his face but his eyes were wide with fear and Sylar caught him as his legs gave out

  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Mohinder woke up with Sylar's face over his, frantically yelling to someone he couldn't see. 

 

“What happened? What did you do?”

 

The world spun and when he could focus again he was being dragged into a chair. 

 

“No, we can't call an ambulance, are you crazy?!” Sylar hissed by his ear. 

 

He landed half in the chair, legs caught in an awkward tangle under him. He could feel his legs but he couldn't unwind them. He couldn't move anything. 

 

Sylar moved back to his field of vision and moved his head for him. He turned it left and right. Mohinder tried to follow him with his eyes but they weren't moving fast enough. 

 

“You know a guy? What guy? Can he help?” Sylar was looking to the side. “Get the guy. Fucking get your guy. I swear to god …”

 

Mohinder’s eyes obeyed his wish to blink but wouldn't open again. 

 

“Mohinder, baby, hold on,” Sylar stroked hands through his hair. 

 

Hours or days or minutes later Mohinder’s eyes were pried open and a bright light was shone in them in turn. A cool hand on his chin turned his head. A soft voice from behind the light was soothing him and asking questions. He couldn't make it out but he could hear Syler’s responds. 

 

“Strength. He has preterhuman strength.”

 

Sylar was right next to him, mouth close by his head. 

 

“Yeah. He gave it to himself.”

 

The light was so bright. 

 

“I don't know, he never gave me the formula. I know he injected himself as an illicit human trial.”

 

“Well, there has to be something!”

 

“He, uh, had an adverse reaction, he turned almost … insectoid? Started to lose himself. That cleared - fuck, I don't know, he touched something he shouldn't have? Again. Everything left him except his strength.”

 

“And how the hell would  _ I _ test for dormant powers?”

 

“Fuck.”

Mohinder squinted against the light. He turned his head away and into the crook of Sylar's neck. 

 

“Oh thank god. You're okay,” Sylar soothed, his hand stroking through his hair again. It felt so good Mohinder thought he could melt. 

“Could the hormones do something like this?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah I'll get him up. Just give me a moment.”

 

Sylar moved back to Mohinder’s front. Mohinder swung his head to look at him. He was pale and sweaty; he looked sick with worry. Mohinder slowly raised a hand to his cheek. Sylar grabbed and held it. 

 

“Good, that's good Mohinder. I need you to help me. We need to leave and I need you on your feet for that. If the police or an ambulance comes, they'll find out about you and take you. And I'd have to come break you out of evo prison. I don't want to have to do that so I need your help.” The worry on his face undermined his flippant words. 

 

Mohinder slowly nodded and leaned forward. The world pitched forward with him. Sylar caught him. He helped untangle the mess his legs were in. 

 

“I need you to walk. You can lean on me but you have to walk.”

 

Mohinder nodded and the two stood. He closed his eyes against the spinning room. 

 

They took slow steps, Sylar leading as Mohinder slowly opened his eyes. They edged around the dance floor and to the door. The cool night air felt like silk against Mohinder’s skin and he sighed. He could breathe easier outside and was feeling more grounded. 

 

“Are you alright?” Sylar asked. Mohinder nodded and breathed deep. All he could smell was Sylar's shampoo and the slight sour sting of his sweat. He felt the burning warmth of Sylar's body pressed to his. Mohinder’s head swam. 

 

Two men met them outside - the man Sylar was dancing with and a man with a penlight and a stethoscope in his pocket. 

 

Stethoscope suck out his hand. “Nick. I'm a nurse. I work with evos, you're safe with me.” He shook hands with Sylar, then Mohinder. Neither offered their names. Nick continued, “I'd like to examine you. You seem better, but Jeff hit you good with hormones, and while it was supposed to make you euphoric, it made you pass out. And we don't know why.”

 

Mohinder turned to the man next to him. “Jeff.” The man nodded. Mohinder felt anger flash through him in an instant and had a vivid picture of ripping Jeff's arms off and strangling him with his own hands. He shook his head and the feeling and vision both fled.

 

Sylar rubbed his back. Mohinder shivered and leaned into the touch. His hand was so large. 

 

Nick explained he had a safe examination room set up in his house and they could stay there. He asked Jeff to drive his car there, he would ride with Mohinder and Sylar. 

Sylar was reluctant to leave to bring the car around, but Mohinder was looking stronger by the minute. He wasn't leaning on him for lack of strength anymore, just - leaning on him. 

 

Sylar turned to Mohinder, mouth open like he was going to say something. He leaned closer and Mohinder stood straighter toward him. Mohinder licked his lips and panted a broken breath. Sylar pulled away, glanced at Nick, and turned to the car. 

 

Nick raised an eyebrow at Mohinder, who ignored him and watched Sylar pull the Volvo around. Nick led him to the back seat and got in next to him. 

 

He started questioning him right away. “What did you have to drink?”

 

“Whisky and coke. Double shot - whisky.”

 

“Did you buy them? Did you watch the bartender pour it? Did the drinks ever leave your hands?”

 

“Yes, yes, no respectively.” His skin was starting to crawl. 

 

“Your friend said something about ‘insectoid’ qualities of your powers. Care to elaborate?”

 

Sylar was watching him in the rear view mirror as he drove. His dark eyes were intense. 

 

“No.”

 

“Jeff’s power allows him to control and influence hormones. If you have any hormone influences left from, what did you do? You injected yourself with powers?”

 

Mohinder sighed. “An adrenal compound. It reacted with my blood. All my senses and physical capabilities were enhanced. But … my skin started to shed and I grew scales. I had to - I felt I had to protect myself so I attacked people when I felt threatened, wrapped them up in cocoons. I was going to … they were dissolving …” He was still watching Sylar watch him in the mirror. Sylar glanced back at the road, following Jeff in what he assumed was Nick’s hatchback, and jerked the car hard back in their lane. Mohinder rocked with the motion but Nick had to catch himself on the back of the front seat. Mohinder’s limbs felt loose but his chest was tight. 

 

“Okay. That's - I thought I'd heard everything by now.” He shook his head, “But you’re just stronger now.” Mohinder nodded. 

 

“How do we know?” Sylar asked, eyes firmly on the road. “How can we know that's the extent of your power?”

 

Mohinder shook his head. Sylar looked up in the mirror at the silence. “I don't know,” he answered. 

 

Nick chimed in, “Most evos are one-trick ponies. Sounds like your power was all connected, if your senses were all enhanced. But the scales … how'd you make cocoons?” 

 

Mohinder didn't need to look up to know Sylar's eyes had snapped back up at that question. He put his hand up, “Stop. All that is not important. I'm feeling better now. Honest.”

 

Better. He felt like his skin was the only thing keeping him together. He felt the very molecules in the air charge when Sylar so much as looked toward him. But definitely better since he was in control of his motor function again. Because he always wanted to rip Sylar's clothes off and eat him alive. From the cock up. This was just par for the course. 

 

Mohinder looked at the man in question and he could feel his body against his own. He could taste the salt on his skin from dancing under the lights, he could feel Sylar's tongue roving up his neck and his strong hands gripping his hair and pulling and he could feel his skin, skin everywhere as they ground together no room for air no room for anything but him -

 

“Hey!” Nick snapped his fingers in his face and Mohinder was shaken from his thoughts. He saw they were stopped in a driveway; Sylar wasn't in the car anymore. 

 

“Yeah you're better, huh,” Nick shook his head and shooed him from the car. Mohinder saw Sylar standing in the yard with his back against a large tree, arms crossed but hands playing with his shirt sleeves. He was rubbing his foot along his leg as if itchy. He caught Mohinder’s eye and looked away quickly. 

 

Jeff came out of the house through the front door and motioned them in. When Mohinder passed him, Jeff hummed appreciation and ran a lingering hand down his back to his waistband before Sylar grabbed him by his a-line shirt and slammed him against the wall. He looked positively feral as he used telekinesis to push the man up off his feet and dangle him. 

 

Mohinder ran towards them, “Sy-stop!” He heaved Sylar's arms up and in surprise, Sylar dropped Jeff. Mohinder eased his fall to the ground with one hand and held Sylar back with the other. 

 

Sylar ran his hands up Mohinder’s arm and pressed him back into the wall. He leaned close; Mohinder could feel his racing heart under his hand. He gasped, skin prickling  under the heat of Sylar's eyes. 

 

Mohinder curled his hands around the back of Sylar's neck, pulling him closer. Sylar’s hands grabbed his wrists and pushed them against the wall by Mohinder’s head. With a moan, Mohinder nuzzled Sylar's jawline, fresh stubble scratching at his nose and cheeks and raw nerve endings. 

 

Sylar's eyes were wide and his breathing shallow. Mohinder could see his chest turning red. A quick glance down and Mohinder knew he was hard, too. 

 

He was so beautiful. He was so his. 

 

“What are you doing to me?” Sylar whispered, eyes pleading. Mohinder leaned up, eyes on Sylar's open mouth. Sylar gasped and tightened his grip on Mohinder’s wrists.  He pushed back abruptly and turned back to the front door but didn't exit. 

 

Nick cut in, “Bug boy, come. Sex machine, stay. Jeff, I will talk to you later, asshole,” he pointed everyone in the correct direction. Slightly offended, Mohinder went down the hall as instructed. 

 

The examination room was in his garage, well insulated and surprisingly stocked with medical machines and cabinets Mohinder assumed held supplies. The machines were old, but as he sat on the exam table, Mohinder saw they were clean and well taken care of. 

 

Nick ran a gamut of checkup tests in silence, directing Mohinder by pointing. 

 

“Is your pulse usually fast?” Mohider shook his head. “It is now, and your blood pressure is high. Your lungs sound fine but you’re breathing too fast. Please try to calm down.”

 

Mohinder took a deep breath and tried to do as instructed.  He was so antsy, though. 

 

Nick stood back, arms crossed. “How long have you two been together?”

 

“What?” Mohinder glanced toward the door leading back to the living room. He could almost feel Sylar from beyond the door. “Oh. We're not,” he shook his head. He bit his lip. 

 

“Mmmhmm,” Nick screwed his mouth up in disbelief. Mohinder raised his eyebrows and stared back. 

 

Nick looked away and continued, “It's not my area of expertise, but I think your pheromones have been affected. The hormone manipulation released endorphins and caused pheromone overproduction. Jeff can be an ass, but his powers work people’s hormones pretty predictably. He’s just never tried them on someone like you. He probably used hormones to rile up your friend also, but I think  _ you _ lit his fire tonight.” He paused. “Jeff’s, too, actually.”

 

Mohinder looked at him, expecting more. Nick shook his head and waved his hand. “Sorry, not me. I'm about as close to a zero as the Kinsey scale goes. I can get my girlfriend over to see if she goes nuts for you, too, if you need to stroke your ego.”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“I can get your friend in here and just let you fuck it out of your systems. Don't know if it'd work but I doubt it would hurt,” he shrugged. 

 

“No!” Mohinder exclaimed as he rearranged his legs to hide how appealing that idea was. Fuck, he wanted Sylar so bad.  

 

Nick leaned back. “Well sorry I hurt your delicate sensibilities, but I'm not the one who decided to reenact ‘The Fly’, asshole. All I'm doing is trying to help but it's like a game with you evos, you just keep one-upping the shit you bring me!” He was yelling in frustration. “Like I know how to solve all your damn shit!”

 

Mohinder let him calm down before he asked, “Has anyone brought you a head injury? Or a cut skull?” Nick looked at him and squinted his eyes. “Maybe someone missing a brain?” Mohinder tried. 

 

“Hell no, I deal with the living’s maladies, not dead people.” He paused. “Like the dead people on the coast?”

 

Mohinder nodded. 

 

“What're you two doing in town?”

 

“Catching a killer.”

 

“You don't look like cops.” Mohinder shook his head. “You work for some shadow agency?”

 

“I guess we work in the shadows?” he answered cautiously. 

 

Nick shook his head. “I got no problems, man, how do you think I have this setup? A group of kids has a network of connections working hard to keep you guys safe. They stay in the shadows, they're good people.”

 

Mohinder thought for a moment and said slowly, “Rebel?” Nick nodded and Mohinder shook his head in disbelief. “Those kids are worlds ahead of the rest of us.”

 

“They're fantastic. I don't even know what all  they do but they'll save the whole damn world someday.” He picked up his stethoscope and listened to Mohinder’s heart and lungs again. He checked his temperature. “And with that distraction, your vitals are closer to a normal range now. You still feeling …”

 

Mohinder’s throat was still dry, his entire body was buzzing and he could feel Sylar from behind the wall. He shivered thinking of him. He nodded, “But less. I feel better.”

 

“What can I do for you? Wanna stay the night out here, see how you feel tomorrow? Your friend can stay too.”

 

“Yes, please. I'll stay out here?”

 

“If you want. I'll set your friend up for the night. Are you okay? I can give you a sedative if you need,” he glanced down at Mohinder’s bouncing legs and his hands picking at the hem of his shirt. 

 

“I should be fine. Um, can I borrow a shirt? This one smells like …” he motioned to the wall Sylar was behind. 

 

“And it's driving you crazy, huh? You don't get one of my good ones.” He set up a cot in the corner for Mohinder so he wasn't on the exam table and opened the living room door.

 

Mohinder got up and started pacing. His blood was on fire but he felt in control. Until he heard Sylar's voice, deep with worry, from behind the wall. 

 

“What's wrong with him?”

 

Nick answered, “Nothing.” He paused in the doorway, leaving it ajar. “He's stable physically, Jeff just kablewied him and I think he's releasing pheromones like mad. If his power was induced with an adrenal element, he might be producing effects that have been dormant until stupid Jeff and stupid you worked him up.”

 

“What the hell did I do?” Sylar sounded defensive. 

 

Nick left the doorway and closed the door behind him. Mohinder rushed to listen through the wood. 

 

“You roil his blood. I don't even need to know you to see. You spike his adrenaline, Jeff hits him with endorphins, and I'm stuck with this passive aggressive mating ritual in my living room. Thanks for that.”

 

His footsteps led away. Mohinder could hear Sylar sigh and swear. 

 

Mohinder wanted to taste swears as they left Sylar's mouth. He wanted to produce swears with his hands and mouth on his body. He wanted Sylar to press him into a wall again, and touch his hair and whisper in his ear and - he needed to stop. Mohinder could feel his pulse jump and he turned from the wall to sit on the cot. He put his head between his knees and focused on breathing. 

 

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder but it was just Nick. 

 

“You sure you're okay, man?”

 

“I will be,” Mohinder took the offered tee shirt and laughed. 

 

Nick bristled. “What? You got something against the Ramones you can get the fuck outta my house.”

 

Mohinder shook his head and tried to stop laughing before he became hysterical. “No, it's just … funny. And not funny at all.” He looked up. “I guess you had to have been there.”

 

“Yeah. I'm going to bed, please just yell if you need anything,” he sounded exasperated. 

 

When he left, Mohinder pulled his own shirt over his head. It smelled like his deodorant, alcohol, and Sylar. Like the rosemary shampoo he had used and the sage soap all his clothes smelled like and just the smell of him. 

 

It made his head swim. 

 

The air was cool on his torso and he put the soft cotton shirt on. Removing his pants allowed his erection to finally spring up in his boxers. He dragged his fingers down his clothed flesh and moaned.

 

He thought of Sylar in the next room and how he should be quiet. But when he thought of Sylar his dick jumped against his hand. He lay back on the cot and took his cock from his fly, so hard and past caring. 

 

He used his palm to smear precome down his length and stroked hard, twisting his wrist and pushing up into his hand. 

 

He thought of Sylar dancing, moving like sex in the low lights. He thought of him pushing him back against the wall, eyes wide with lust. He thought back to when they first met, awkward Zane in the very same graphic tee he was borrowing that night, so eager to show his power. He thought of fighting Sylar with fists and powers and wits, and thought of the full body pressure of being held at Sylar's mercy on the ceiling of his apartment. 

He gasped remembering the thrill of losing his upper hand, losing the fight, and having Sylar's undivided attention. His dark eyes full of so much emotion; he was always showing his cards with his eyes and they had been turned to him filled with want so very many times. 

 

He felt the heady power of being lusted after and remembering the pressure of being held to the ceiling and he came so hard as he threw his hips in the air. 

 

Barely catching his come in his cupped hand, Mohinder moaned quietly and tried to calm his breathing. He sighed and walked on shaky legs to the sink in the corner and watched as his come swirled down the drain. 

He felt like he was swirling, too.

  
  
  
  
  


Sylar's big brown eyes opened slowly. A stretch worked down his body, pressing it up into Mohinder’s. He gasped as he realized he was trapped under the other man. 

 

“Mohinder, what're you doing?” his voice was rough. 

 

In reply, Mohinder rolled his hips, pressing his tailbone onto Sylar's hardening cock. Sylar leaned his head back and moaned. He threw his hands over the arm of the living room sofa and bucked his hips up. Mohinder dropped his hands to Sylar's chest for balance and groaned. 

 

He moved steady and slow, watching Sylar writhe. The quiet moans he has making were setting Mohinder alight. He watched Sylar's arms twitch in time with his rocking hips. 

 

Mohinder’s skin burned where he was touching Sylar's bare legs. His chest was tight and his lungs hurt from gasping. 

 

He could feel Sylar's pulse race. The air around them echoed with their ragged breaths. 

 

Sylar reached up and gripped Mohinder’s shirt. “Are you wearing -” he dragged Mohinder down and spoke in his ear. “This is the weirdest damn dream.”

 

Mohinder didn't correct him. He readjusted his knees around Sylar's bony hips, pressing his cock flat against Sylar's. 

 

Sylar gasped in tiny pants as Mohinder ground against him. He wrapped his hands around the back of Mohinder’s head, fingers weaving into his curls. 

 

Mohinder kissed Sylar's neck and sucked hard. Sylar bucked into him and Mohinder had to grab his arms for balance. He bit the hinge of Sylar's jaw.

 

Sylar grasped his hair and the back of his shirt, pulling him up. “You smell like the club,” he said, confused. 

 

Mohinder looked up at him through his eyelashes; he rode Sylar's answering shiver down his body. He sat up and said in a low voice, “I want you. So bad, Sylar, I want you.”

 

Underneath him, Sylar moaned. He reached up and pulled Mohinder’s face to his. He sounded anxious as he asked, “Is this a dream?”

 

Mohinder rolled his hips and shook his head. “Please, Sylar, I know you want me.”

 

Sylar's hands grazed over Mohinder’s outstretched neck as he moved his hands to his chest. He tried to speak but his voice caught. Trying again, he whispered, “Not like this.”

 

Mohinder quirked his head to the side and adjusted his knees on the couch. He grabbed Sylar's hands where they were pushing his shoulders back. Gracefully, he sat back on his legs, pulling Sylar to sit up against him. 

 

“That's okay,” he said, “That’s wonderful, I've wanted you to fuck me since we met,” he admitted. 

 

Sylar's fingers grasped his shoulders. “Mohinder,” he growled, almost a warning. 

 

“Please fuck me.” Mohinder knelt up and off his legs, scooting back and pulling at Sylar to make him kneel as well. He pulled Sylar on top of him as he fell backwards to the couch cushions. 

 

Sylar landed against his chest with a sharp exhale and pushed himself up. Mohinder reached behind his head and pulled his borrowed tee shirt off. He wrapped his legs around Sylar's ass and pulled him close. He arched his back, bare chest bumping Sylar's. He grabbed the hem of Sylar's white shirt and started pulling it off. 

 

“Mohinder, stop. What are you doing?”

 

“I want you to fuck me, I know you want to. Please, anything you want,” Mohinder begged. 

 

Sylar pushed his hands off. Mohinder wrapped his legs tighter and pulled his hips up to Sylar's, grinding against him again. Their boxers were hardly a barrier and the sensation of cotton brushing skin was a thrill in the background to the main event of Sylar's hard cock pressing against his own. 

 

Sylar's head fell and he rested against Mohinder’s forehead. Their lips were a breath away. 

 

“Please Mohinder, not like this, honey,” Sylar sounded so sad. 

 

“I need you.”

 

“God, I need you too.”

 

Mohinder surged against him again and Sylar made a wounded noise.

 

“Mohinder,” he warned. 

 

“Please, Sylar.”

 

With a look of physical pain on his face, Sylar kneeled and held his hand out. When Mohinder sat up after him, Sylar pushed him back down telekinetically.

 

Mohinder’s eyes went wide as his breath punched out of him in a gasp. He moaned, wanton and unabashed. “Yes, yes Sylar, please. So good,” he undulated his hips, thrusting in the air between their bodies. His cock was leaking in his boxers.

 

“What else can you do with that? Can you touch my cock?” he moaned at the thought. “Please, Sylar, can you touch me with your powers?”

 

Sylar's body jerked and he grimaced. “Mohinder, stop!”

 

“Touch me. You make me so hard. You're so beautiful, Sylar. Fuck me,” he couldn't stop his mouth. “Please take me, I want you so bad.”

 

Sylar's eyes shone. “You don't,” he whispered. 

 

“I do, I do, please!”

 

“You're messed up, I can't.”

 

“Can. Can and please do.” He felt Sylar’s hold slipping on him as his emotions ran high. He lay still, so hard to do with Sylar kneeling right over him. “Sylar, I  _ need _ you,” he keened. 

 

“Mohinder,” he whined. He was so hard Mohinder could see his cock straining sideways in his tight boxers.

 

He had to touch him. 

 

Mohinder sat up, hand brushing Sylar's cock. He moaned and was thrown across the room and into the wall. His whole body shook and he almost came from the force. 

 

“Mohinder, I'm so sorry.” Sylar was still kneeling on the couch. He drew a large breath and yelled, “Nick! Nick, we need you!”

 

“Sylar! Sylar, please, it's okay, we don't need him, I just need you!”

 

He could hear Nick running downstairs. 

 

“Sylar, Sylar, please Sylar!” He had almost had him! 

 

Nick burst through the doorway and looked between them. 

 

Mohinder, pressed to the wall, yelling Sylar's name and Sylar sinking to sit on his legs on the couch, looking like his world had just ended. 

 

“What is this?” Nick demanded. 

 

“He's …” Sylar started. “I can't control him, he's too … he's making me weak.”

 

“Sylar, please!” He struggled against Sylar's hold. 

 

Nick gritted his teeth and went in the garage. He came back with an IV bag and attached a new needle to the tube. Mohinder writhed on the wall. 

 

“No, no no, I don't need that, Sylar, I just need you, please!”

 

Nick turned to Sylar and growled, “Hold him  _ still _ .”

 

Sylar unfolded his legs and walked stiffly to stand near the nurse. He held both his hands out and shook with concentration. 

 

“What are you giving him?” he asked, concerned. 

 

“Ketamine.”

 

“Is that safe? Will be be alright?”

 

“He'll be under a state of twilight sedation, it should make him pliable so I can figure out what the hell to do. Hold him still, damnit!”

 

He tied a rubber hose around Mohinder’s arm as a tourniquet, holding one end between his teeth. 

 

Mohinder stretched his neck and leaned toward them. “Please Sylar. You don't know what this feels like.”

 

“Baby, I do.” He sounded so pained. 

 

Nick inserted the needle in Mohinder’s vein and held the IV bag aloft. 

 

Mohinder’s eyes felt heavy after a couple heartbeats and his vision doubled for a moment. He was watching Sylar, then two of him, then back to just one. His movements looked jerky as he stepped closer. 

 

“What did he do? Is he dangerous?” Nick asked, no patience in his voice. 

 

Sylar shook his head. “He came on to me. He's not in control.”

 

“Why's that a problem?”

 

Sylar touched Mohinder’s cheek. “Because he's not in control. I don't want him to regret anything. Thank you for stopping him.”

 

Mohinder watched Nick turn to Sylar. His body left a trail in his wake, like the cartoon roadrunner as he sped away. Mohinder laughed at the analogy. Sylar watched him, still concerned. He didn't have his hands up anymore but Mohinder still couldn't move. 

 

Nick asked with his voice filled with anger, “Why is he calling you Sylar?”

 

“Why is he laughing, what did you do to him?”

 

“He's fucking doped up now and still high on endorphins, why the fuck not laugh?  _ Why _ is he calling you  _ Sylar _ ?”

 

Mohinder sighed, feeling every molecule of air leave his lungs and he slumped against the wall. His legs felt like lead and he sunk sunk sunk until Sylar reached out his power and caught him, a cushiony bouncy brush against the back of his thighs and he held his chest up with a warm touch of hands. “Mmm. Sylar,” he moaned, tasting the name as it slid off his tongue. 

 

Nick slammed his hand holding the IV bag into the wall. “Why?!”

 

“Because that's my _fucking_ _name_!” Sylar breathed deep and started again, forcing his voice calm. “Whatever problem you have with me has to wait. Please. Help him, I don't know what to do.”

 

“Fuck you. Fuck you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the fact I don't know how drugs feel. Thank you Reddit for honest, candid posts on the subject. I may have made it too hallucinatory, oops.


	25. Chapter 25

Mohinder blinked but his eyes wouldn't clear. He moaned as he tried to sit up but his head was too big and his body filled with cotton. 

 

“Mohinder. Don't sit up.”

 

He didn't see Sylar but okayed his command, laying back down on his side. He continued to blink and he could see clearly again. 

 

He was back in the garage, laying loose on the cot. 

 

Sylar was scrubbing his white tee shirt at the sink, wearing just an undershirt and his boxers. The shirt in his hands was covered in blood. 

 

“Sylar, who's bleeding?” Mohinder’s voice didn't hold the command he meant it to - he sounded dreamy and detached to his own ears. 

 

Sylar turned his head at the words. His face was a mess of blood. It trailed over the bridge of his nose and over his lips, curling down his chin and neck. More blood was smeared across his cheek to his ear.

 

Mohinder gasped. “Oh gods, did you eat a brain?” his vowels dragged long and wide out of his mouth, uncontrollable. He couldn't catch them. 

 

Sylar's abrupt laugh surprised him, but it turned sour fast. “God, Mohinder, no. No. Nick has a hell of a right hook. And sucker punch. Fucking knocked me out.” He scrubbed the shirt extra hard and gritted out, “I hate being knocked out.”

 

Mohinder tried to sit up again, more successfully. “Why?”

 

Sylar looked away, then back at Mohinder with sad eyes. “I killed his brother.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh. Small world, huh,” he said hypothetically. “It was a long time ago, but those wounds never go away.” His eyes barely held back tears as he looked at Mohinder and whispered his name. He looked like he would fall over. 

 

“Sylar,” Mohinder tripped over his numb legs as he slid from the cot but he made it across the room. He reached a tentative hand to Sylar's arm, feeling the ghost touch of his skin still burning against his own but he swallowed it down and pulled Sylar close. 

 

Sylar dropped the wet shirt and curled into his arms. He pressed his forehead into the crook of Mohinder’s neck and sucked back a sob. 

 

Mohinder ran his hands along his back. Up and down, across his shoulders, flat fingers and sharp nails. 

 

Sylar gripped at his bare waist, fingers bruisingly tight. He shook his head and gasped. 

 

“I don't want this.”

 

Mohinder’s heart skipped. “Don't want what?”

 

“Everything. Everyone I hurt - every life I took - I feel it all. I don't know how I can live with it forever.” His voice was barely a whisper. 

 

Mohinder felt a sob threaten to jerk from his own chest but he bit it down. He shut his eyes and gripped the muscle by Sylar's neck.

 

“Mohinder.” He looked up and saw Sylar’s tears running through the blood on his face, pale pink rivulets threatening to drip to his clean tank. Mohinder brushed them away with the back of his hand. He smeared blood over them both. 

 

Sylar's eyes darted between Mohinder’s and his lips trembled. “Mohinder, I've hurt you so much.”

 

Mohinder’s heart ached for him. He stroked a hand over his face, pulling him tighter against his bare skin. Sylar's hands traced up his sides, higher to his ribcage. Mohinder pulled his face down and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “Shhh.” Another kiss, pressed against his temple. “Don't focus on the past.” He kissed Sylar's ear, whispering, “You aren't hurting me now.” His lips traced down Sylar's jaw, the sharp metallic taste of blood on the edge of his tongue. 

 

Sylar gasped. He wrapped his hands around Mohinder’s back. “Mohinder,” he breathed. He tilted his head back and away. “How do you feel?”

 

Blinking, Mohinder watched Sylar's adam's apple jump and thought about licking it, sucking the hollow of his throat so bare and open for him. “I don't know. Numb. Slow,” he said, in a voice affirming his words. 

 

“Do you still feel … like you did on the couch? With me?” He still wasn't looking at Mohinder. 

 

Mohinder nodded. “Yes,” he drawled, pressing his hips against Sylar's. “I want you.” He could feel himself harden with his admission and under the physical pressure of their bodies together. 

 

Sylar looked at him at that, expression unreadable. “You need to stop that.”

 

“Why?” he asked as he obeyed, pulling his hips back and loosening his hold on Sylar’s shoulders. 

 

“Because you're high. You're high, and I'm really fucked up right now, and I won't let this ruin us.” He smiled sadly. “Someone has to be the reasonable one.”

 

He turned and grabbed a washcloth from the sink, running it under the tap and gently cleaning the blood from Mohinder’s hand and the smear on his cheek. 

 

They looked at each other, eyes dancing and fingers gliding over skin. Sylar sighed and Mohinder wanted to crawl inside his mouth. “Mohinder, I need you to sit down.”

 

Mohinder started to fold his legs where they stood, causing Sylar to laugh as he caught him. “No, silly, to the bed. Can you make it?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Mohinder nodded. “The drugs aren't in my legs, they're in my head.” He stumbled as he pushed back from Sylar and didn't have his balance to borrow from anymore. Sylar quirked an eyebrow in disbelief but watched him walk to the cot unaided, if slow. 

 

“Will you be alright out here?” Sylar asked as he picked up the mess of his shirt again. Mohinder nodded and sighed, wrestling the blanket over his legs. Maybe the drugs were in his legs, they were certainly not cooperating. 

 

When he turned back, Sylar was drying his face with a towel. Squeaky clean and blood free. 

 

“You're beautiful,” Mohinder couldn't stop his mouth. 

 

Sylar's cheeks colored as he held the towel loosly in front of him. “Goodnight, Mohinder,” he said with finality. 

 

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Mohinder replied as sleep took him.    
  
  
  



	26. Chapter 26

Mohinder woke up alone, in the same position he had passed out in. The blanket was loose over him and he pushed it to the floor to stand and stretch. 

 

He went into the living room and saw Sylar sitting on the couch staring at his phone screen. He was dressed in his clothes from the night before, boots on but unlaced and loose on his feet. 

 

“Mohinder.” He looked up, eyes heavy like he hadn't slept. “How do you feel?” 

 

After a thought, Mohinder answered, “Like I've been drugged.”

 

“Baby,” Sylar breathed in pity before he could stop himself. He bit his lip and Mohinder wanted to do that for him. 

 

Mohinder held up his hand, consciously stopping himself from mounting Sylar and assaulting him again with hands and hips and mouth. 

 

Sylar sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “There was an attack last night.”

 

“Shit.” Mohinder folded onto the couch next to Sylar. Sylar jumped to stand and started pacing. Mohinder saw the tee shirt he had taken off the night before on the floor and slipped it back on. “Where?”

 

Sylar looked at him. “On the patio of the club we were at.”

 

Mohinder pressed his hand to his mouth. “Shit.”

 

“Yeah.” Sylar looked away again and resumed pacing. 

 

“When?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “That wasn't on the news. I'm about to go down there, I wanted to make sure you were okay first.”

 

“I'll go too, give me a moment.” He stood but Sylar pushed him back down. 

 

“I don't think that's a good idea. I think you're still …” he waved his hand but couldn't come up with a word. 

 

“You think?”

 

Sylar ignored him and took out his phone, shooting a quick text and getting a reply just as fast. 

 

He glanced at Mohinder and turned to the garage. He handed Mohinder his slacks when he returned. 

 

“Thanks,” he said through a dry throat and stood to slip them on.

 

They heard the front door open and Mohinder looked up, curious. Jeff shuffled into the room, wearing loose sweats and sleepy eyes. He took one look at Mohinder, mouth falling open in a pant. 

 

He turned to Sylar. “Oh yeah,” he said, like they were in the middle of a conversation. Attention back on Mohinder, he purred quietly, “The things I could do to you, boy.” His tongue ran over his lip before his teeth dragged over it's path. His eyes slid over his body and Mohinder was suddenly very grateful Sylar had given him his pants. 

 

“Thank you,” Sylar growled. Mohinder saw his eye twitch as he glared at Jeff. 

 

“Mmm, thank you.” Jeff took a step toward Mohinder sitting on the couch. “You're not my usual flavor - I usually go for white boys, but you are something else.”

 

“Excuse me,” Mohinder said, uncomfortable with the attention. 

 

Sylar stepped up to him. “That's enough.”

 

Jeff squared his shoulders, shorter but thicker than Sylar. “Step down. I'm only doing what you asked.”

 

“What?” Mohinder was lost. 

 

Jeff shook a thumb at Sylar, breathing bullishly over him. “Lover boy asked me to come by and see if I still wanted to ravish you. Apparently he's so far gone on you he can't tell any difference,” he explained, voice thick with attitude. He breathed deep and held up a hand. “Look, I'm sorry about last night. I never thought someone would react so bad.”

 

Mohinder ran his hands through his hair. “You changed the chemical composition of my brain and bloodstream. His, too,” he glanced at Sylar. “And how many other people. Just like you drugged them. You drugged  _ us _ .”

 

“Well that's a fucked up way of looking at it,” Jeff bristled. 

 

“Think about it. It's the truth.”

 

He crossed his arms and cocked his hip. “Sorry I didn't bring official consent forms, asshole. Everything I've done to you is because your boy asked me to, okay?”

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar gasped. 

 

Mohinder held up his hand, shutting Sylar up. “You didn't know the chemical change would cause other reactions in me, I understand. That's probably not normal,” he couldn't stifle the angry chuckle edging into his voice. “Just  _ think _ before you,” he glanced at Sylar, looking him up and down as he remembered him dancing, sinuous and sensual and chemically imbalanced, “use people.”

 

Jeff's face broke in a snide smile. “Oh, you're jealous. Sorry, I didn't mean to piss on your plaything, he's all yours.”

 

Sylar grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back. “You're done.”

 

Jeff pulled out of his hold and shook his shirt out. “Yeah. I am.”

 

Mohinder stood. “Just one question.” They both turned to him. “How long does your influence control hormones?”

 

“Honey, I stopped controlling them the instant your eyes fuzzed out. You were on your own before you passed out.”

 

Sylar and Mohinder exchanged looks. 

 

Jeff was serious, attitude and swagger forgotten. “What does Nick think is happening to you?” 

 

“I'm overproducing pheromones.”

 

Jeff laughed. “Mating pheromones?” He turned to Sylar. “You may just  _ have _ to fuck him. What a pity,” he sing-songed.

 

Mohinder closed his eyes and grasped his fingers in tight fists, trying not to think about Sylar fucking sense back into him. It was a losing battle. He buried his face in his hands. “I'll just jerk off. Again,” he muttered. 

 

“Jesus. Mohinder,” Sylar breathed. 

 

“Fuck,” Mohinder said louder, having forgotten both his mouth and Sylar's hearing.

 

“Fuck, indeed, why are you all still in my house?” Mohinder heard Nick but didn't look up. 

 

“Mornin’ neighbor,” Jeff said, sounding short of air. Mohinder hoped Sylar was strangling him. 

 

“Jeff, you've done enough damage, get the hell outta my house. And give me back my house key.”

 

“Fuck that, I'm watering your plants every time you're out of town forever. You have Cinemax.”

 

Mohinder looked up and saw Nick shaking his head. He was wearing scrubs and had bare feet. “Whatever, just go.”

 

Sylar, hand still wrapped tight in his collar, marched him to the door. “Bye,” he bit out, throwing Jeff outside. 

 

Nick ignored Sylar as he pointed Mohinder to the garage. 

 

“How do you feel?” he asked as Mohinder jumped on the exam table. 

 

“Like I've been drugged,” he said again, bitter. 

 

“‘Cause you were, that's to be expected. Are you coming down alright?”

 

“From the ketamine yes. But whatever my body did in response to Jeff's hormone manipulation is still there. I think I can control it better now though.” 

 

“Mmhmm. Excuse me if I don't believe you.” He listened to Mohinder’s heart and lungs. “Your track record isn't real stellar with me, remember. Your heartbeat  _ is _ slower and you are breathing normal, that's one point for you.”

 

“Two points for me: my hands are completely to myself.” He held them up. 

 

“Yeah. What was that last night? I thought you were killing him,” he growled. “You should try harder next time.”

 

“You should lay off him.” Mohinder glared at Nick. “He's just trying to protect me. And clear his name.”

 

Nick turned to get the blood pressure cuff. “Do people think he's the killer?”

 

“So I hear.”

 

“Relax. Take a deep breath and think of the color blue.”

 

“What?” Mohinder did as he was told though and Nick strapped the cuff to his arm. The machine gave his reading as within normal range. 

 

Nick shook his head. “You're physically healthy. And you do seem to have better control now, maybe the chemicals are balancing.”

 

“Jeff said he was still … attracted to me.”

 

With a guffaw, Nick said, “Jeff likes anything with a dick, don't give yourself too much credit.”

 

He turned to leave, Mohinder following. “I'm working a double today. I suggest you are gone by the time I'm home.”

 

“Thank you, for letting us stay and for helping me,” Mohinder said. 

 

Nick left to finish getting ready for work. Sylar ran his hand down Mohinder’s back, lingering as he asked, “Are you alright?”

 

Mohinder nodded. “I'd like to go back to the hotel.”

 

“You take the car, I called a cab to take me to the club.”

 

“Be careful, okay? It feels like this guy is following us.”

 

Sylar nodded as he bent to tie his boots. “He is. But if he is, he knows who we are. He's the one that has to be careful,” he growled. 

 

“Sylar. Don't do anything stupid.”

 

“Never.” He ran his hand up Mohinder’s back and into his hair, pulling him forward and kissing the top of his head. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mohinder stopped for tea on the way back to the hotel. Their room was empty and cold, just like they left it. He sat on his bed, lost at what to do two thousand miles from home by himself. He thought about working on his thesis but he couldn't concentrate with his brain all fuzzy. The novel Sylar was reading was on his pillow but even that seemed like too much effort. 

 

With a sigh, he opened the curtains and leaned on the windowsill, tea in hand. His skin still felt stretched too tight. 

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it open. Of course it was Sylar. 

 

_ Make it back to the hotel okay?  _

 

_ Yes, thank you.  _

_ How are you, did you get to the scene yet?  _

 

_ Almost there _

_ I don't even want to see it _

_ This is all my fault _

 

Mohinder sighed and texted back,  _ No, it's not.  _

 

There was a couple minute pause before his reply.  _ It is.  _

 

Mohinder was trying to think of what to say when Sylar continued. 

 

_ If I had left you alone you'd be alright now. _

_ I wouldn't be on my way to look at more death _

 

_ You don't know that. It could have happened after we would have left, anyway.  _

 

_ just pulled up I'll call _

_ <3 S _

 

Mohinder set his phone and cup of tea on the bathroom sink and started the shower. He was still sticky from the night before, being packed in the club and then stupidly grinding on Sylar. 

 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, what had he done? 

 

He ran his hands through his hair. 

 

He had fucked up. He had assaulted Sylar again, woken him from sleep and didn't listen when he was told to stop. Fuck! 

 

He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped under the spray, too hot and too gentle. He slammed his hand into the stall wall, feeling the room shake around him. 

 

He knew Sylar wanted him, he'd known for years. And his own feelings were … complicated. But now he knew how his body felt against his own, the sharp edges of his hipbones and the flat planes of his chest. He knew the salty taste of his skin and the noises he made as Mohinder ground against him. 

 

Fuck. Mohinder could still feel him under his body, limbs tense and cock hard. He could still hear Sylar call him ‘baby’ with breathless wonder. 

 

His hands trailed down his stomach to his dick with a shiver. His hand shook as he circled his cock, holding tight and still as he cupped his balls, rolling their weight in his hand. He sighed, thinking of Sylar hard against him, hips tilted, moaning and writhing. Fuck. 

 

He stroked his cock root to head, feeling the shower water hit his skin gently where his hand was not. He closed his eyes and moaned, remembering the feel of Sylar's neck under his mouth, the vibration of his moans up his throat as Mohinder had kissed it. 

 

He cupped water in his hand and ran it loosely up around his cock almost daring to imagine Sylar's wet mouth around him but leaving the vision at the edge of his consciousness, an emotional tease that sped his heart but didn't overwhelm. 

 

He focused on sensual memories - Sylar's moans and gasps, his muscled arms twitching under his hands, his lips pressed in a tender kiss on the top of his head. He remembered how Sylar smelled, the rich smell of earthy soap, the edge of sharp sweat, and the smell of his arousal, dark and heady; Mohinder wanted to burrow into him and breathe him forever. 

 

He came with a gasp, Sylar's name never leaving his tongue but rattling around his head. 

 

He leaned his forehead against the wall and let himself come down under the hot water. 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

He blinked to clear the water from his eyes and showered slowly. After a thought, he used Sylar's soap and shampoo, hoping the scent would mask any lingering pheromones.

 

He had a missed call and a text when he got out. The text just said  _ call me  _ so standing wet and naked in the bathroom, he dialed Sylar. 

 

“Hey,” he picked up. 

 

“Hey yourself.” Mohinder coughed once, clearing his dry throat. “Uh, how's …”

 

Sylar sighed. “Ugly. But not limb rippingly so. We're going to Phoenix after Dallas. Hope you packed for the heat.”

 

“I'll live.” He ran a towel over his hair and face, hard to do while balancing the phone on his shoulder. “How are you?”

 

“I will also live.”

 

“You sound exhausted. You didn't sleep at all, did you?” He finished toweling off and dug in his bag for clean clothes. 

 

Sylar made a noncommittal grunt. “Bigger fish to fry, and all that.”

 

“Yeah.” Mohinder sighed. “About all that. Sylar, I'm so …”

 

“Don't say you're sorry,” he cut in abruptly. 

 

Mohinder changed courses, “ _ Thankful _ . Thank you, for … stopping me. I don't want …”

 

“Yeah,” he said, voice heavy. 

 

“How -” he had so many questions he didn't know which one to ask. One thing Sylar had said the night before stuck out to him so he asked in a soft voice, “How did you know it wasn't a dream?”

 

He heard shuffling and Sylar sucking in a deep staggered breath. Maybe he overstepped his bounds. Again. He opened his mouth to apologize. 

 

“Because in my dreams, you kiss me.” Sylar’s voice was low and deep. He was breathing fast, almost scared. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. So. Um, we should leave for Dallas soon so I'm going to call the cab.”

 

“Don't be rediculous, I'll be right there to pick you up.”

 

“The body was just picked up, there's nothing else here except the graffiti. I barely got here in time.”

 

Mohinder shook his head before he realized Sylar couldn't see. “I don't need to see it, I just need - I'll be right there for you.”

 

“Okay. I'll be on the corner. Thanks.”

 

They both paused in silence; Mohinder felt like there was something else to say but couldn't find it. He thought of the stupid smiley faces in Sylar's texts. 

 

“Okay,” he added, feeling awkward. “See you soon.”

 

“Drive safe.”

 

“Yeah,” Mohinder said as he hung up. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Coffee,” Mohinder held the paper cup out as Sylar ducked in the car. 

 

He took the cup with a moan. “Oh my god, you are my favorite.” 

 

Mohinder watched him practically bury his nose in the cup. “I know.” He made a u-turn and headed for the freeway. 

 

“We have five hours until Dallas, you should get some sleep,” Mohinder said. 

 

He felt Sylar stare at him as he drove. “Yeah. You're probably right.” He laid a hand on Mohinder’s thigh. “Are you alright?”

 

“Why are you asking  _ me _ that?” He didn't look away from the road. 

 

“Because I’m worried about you.”

 

“Aren't you worried about yourself?” he asked, turning for eye contact. 

 

Sylar shook his head and repeated Mohinder’s earlier words back to him, “I'll live.”

 

Silence filled the car as Sylar drank his coffee and Mohinder drove. 

 

Mohinder fiddled with the steering wheel. “Aren't you worried I'll -”

 

“The only thing I'm worried you could do is pick up and leave,” Sylar butt in. 

 

“Why would I do that?” Mohinder asked, confused. 

 

Sylar watched him silently. He moved his hand to the back of Mohinder’s chair, fingers loosly trailing through his hair. “I'm hoping you won't.”

 

Mohinder felt a tiny shiver run down his spine as Sylar's fingers continued. He still thrilled at the touch, but not in the desperate way he did before. His body's chemicals seemed to have returned to normal. 

 

“Wake me when we're close, alright? I have somewhere for us to stay tonight.”

 

“Okay,” he said and he felt Sylar's fingers still and he fell asleep. 


	27. Chapter 27

Sylar took the wheel just outside of Dallas when Mohinder woke him up. He drove to the outskirts of the city. 

 

They pulled up to a small house with two cars in the driveway. Sylar patted Mohinder’s leg as he got out, smiling. He grabbed their bags and hopped up the steps two at a time. 

 

The door was opening by the time Mohinder caught up with him. A small blonde stood in the doorway.

 

Sylar had taken him to Claire Bennett’s house. 

 

“Sylar, oh my god,” she wrapped her arms around him and saw Mohinder, standing shocked behind Sylar. He waved. “And Doctor Suresh, hi,” she shook his hand while staring at Sylar with widened eyes. Sylar ignored her. 

 

“Hey, we were going through town, I wanted to say hello. It's so good to see you, Claire,” he said softly. 

 

“Get in here. Gretchen just got home. You plan on staying the night or the week, damn,” she hit a bag on Sylar's hip. 

 

“Just the night I think, if we can. Got a bit of a schedule.”

 

“Great!” she beamed at Sylar before giving Mohinder another wary look. “Gretch! We have guests!” she yelled. 

 

A tiny dachshund bounded down the hall and danced between Claire's legs. “Go away, Stinky.”

 

Sylar squatted to the dog's level and Mohinder couldn't tell who was petting whom as the dog grabbed Sylar's leg and danced around on excited paws. 

 

Mohinder bent down, resting a hand on Sylar's shoulder as the dog circled his legs. “Why's Claire acting like I'm -” he shrugged and threw his hands up. 

 

Sylar looked up at him. “Maybe you're just unexpected.”

 

“And you are?” he asked as Sylar stood. 

 

“I told you I had friends.” He smiled. 

 

Claire poked her head around a doorway down the hall. “Come put those down.” Sylar followed her direction, setting the bags down on the guest room bed. Claire folded her arms. “So we only have one bed, but I can make up the couch?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“That's okay,” Mohinder answered, watching the fiery look she shot Sylar and his immediate dismissal of it. 

 

“This is a nice place, Claire,” Sylar said, turning around the sparce room. 

 

“We just moved in. Still getting comfy.”

 

“Who's here, babe?” a brunette stepped into the room and her eyes landed on Sylar. “Oh. Your stalker. Your stalker is here. That's awesome.”

 

“Hey. Long time,” Sylar greeted her with a nod and Claire introduced Mohinder and Gretchen. 

 

“Just Mohinder, Doctor Suresh was my father,” he corrected, shaking Claire's girlfriend's hand. “Stalker?” he asked Sylar.

 

Sylar shook his head and rubbed his temple.

 

Gretchen opened her mouth to elaborate but Claire clapped her hands and interjected. “Who's hungry? I'm ordering pizza. Honey, could you open a bottle of wine?”

 

Sylar sat on the bed to remove his boots. “Could you get a vegetarian, Claire?”

 

“Eww why,” she made a face. 

 

“Thought I'd try out Mohinder’s alternative lifestyle,” he winked. 

 

Mohinder looked at the ceiling and sighed. 

 

“Yeah, the alternative to good,” Claire mumbled as she and Gretchen left the room. The dog followed them, bounding along on tiny legs. 

 

“Hey.” Mohinder turned into the hand Sylar rubbed down his arm. “This okay?”

 

Mohinder nodded. “But what about … if this guy is following us, we brought him directly to handpicked victims.”

 

“Two indestructible ones and one I'll protect with everything I have. Anyway, he hasn't tried anything on us.”

 

“Still. You better tell Claire.”

 

“Ehhh,” Sylar waffled.

 

“Or I'll tell Gretchen.” At Sylar's shrug, he continued, “How would you feel in her situation?” 

 

With a sigh, Sylar conceded. “I'll tell Claire.”

 

They left the room and Sylar caught Claire by the arm and led her to the kitchen. “Gotta talk.”

 

“Uh, duh, what the hell, why didn't you tell me?” She threw an arm back at Mohinder as he sat on the couch across from Gretchen in an armchair. 

 

“Shut up. Just -” he put their heads together and Mohinder assumed he explained the situation to her. 

 

Mohinder smiled at Gretchen. She crossed her legs and smiled back. “So. I like your house.” He couldn't think of anything to say. 

 

“Thanks. We just moved in. Still working on the furniture,” she motioned to the large cardboard box between them, a stand-in coffee table. 

 

“You'll get there. Furniture doesn't make a home.”

 

“Yeah.” She glanced over at Claire with a small smile on her lips. “Yeah.”

 

“Fuck him!” Claire yelled. “Of course you can stay.” She stomped through the kitchen and back to lean against Gretchen’s chair. “Okay,” she explained to her girlfriend, “There's a crazy guy pretending to be Sylar killing people across the states. He only kills powered people, and seems to be following these two.”

 

“Oh shit,” Gretchen gasped. 

 

Claire closed her eyes and slowly opened one to peek at Gretchen. “So there's a slight chance he could come here tonight and try to kill me,” she said quickly. 

 

“Oh shit!”

 

“But he won't be able to, and then they can catch him!” she finished with forced positivity.

 

“What's the chance he'll come here?” Gretchen asked, hand resting on Claire's thigh as she sat on the chair arm. 

 

“I don't think too good,” Mohinder answered. He kills in public places. Like he's showing off.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” She shrugged. “I guess we just hang out and see what happens then.” She looked up at Claire. “You'll be alright?”

 

Claire kissed her gently. Mohinder looked away, and saw Sylar watching him from behind the girls’ chair. He looked away from him, too. 

 

“I'll be alright,” Claire answered gently. She kissed the top of Gretchen’s head as she stood, Gretchen’s hand trailing down her arm. “We'll bring this son of a bitch down.” She went back to the kitchen and poured four glasses of red wine, preemptively uncorking another bottle to breathe. 

 

She handed Mohinder a glass and he held up his hand. “Is that really such a great idea?”

 

“Probably not,  _ grandpa,  _ but I don't care.” He still didn't take the glass. “Don't make me peer pressure you.”

 

“Oh god,” Gretchen moaned. “Don't say peer pressure when I have wine in my hand. I'm  _ still  _ recovering from that frat party.”

 

Sylar reached around Claire's shoulder and took the glass. He shoved it in Mohinder’s hand. “Just take the damn thing, Mohinder.” He waited with a hand on his hip. “Thank you, Claire,” he sing songed. Mohinder shoved him with his foot but Sylar caught it and tugged. 

 

Mohinder yelped as he was scooted down the cushion. He remembered his wine too late and by the time he righted the stemware, Sylar had the wine in a controlled splash back inside the glass. He winked. 

 

The doorbell rang and Mohinder huffed and went to collect the pizza. The delivery boy was wearing a large cowboy hat, pickup idling in front. 

 

He had almost forgotten they were in Texas. 

 

He paid for the pizzas and was called back to the living room when he started bringing them to the kitchen. 

 

“Just put them on the box,” Claire pointed, opening the top box in his hand and taking a piece of pepperoni and mushroom. She sat back with Gretchen, the two squishing into the armchair together. Sylar handed out paper towels and sat on the couch opposite Mohinder. 

 

The dog rested his paws and head on Sylar's lap, following the pizza. “Stinky, get outta here,” Claire brushed him away with her paper towel. 

 

“So, Claire,” Mohinder started, getting a piece of veggie supreme when Sylar offered the box. “How's your family?” It was an ugly connection, but the only one they had. 

 

Claire downed her glass of wine and stood to pour another as Mohinder watched. Sylar tapped his leg and shook his head, eyes wide. 

 

Claire sat back down. “I really don't know.” Her smile was fake and forced as she answered. “My dad kicked me out. Out of their lives. Out of my family,” her voice caught in her throat. 

 

“What?” he was flabbergasted. 

 

“There's plenty of things forgivable in the Bennett family, but me bringing my girlfriend home was not one of those things.”

 

Gretchen held her tight. “Honey,” she started, but Claire held up a hand. 

 

“I'm - I'm numb to it. I'll never be fine, but I'll survive.”

 

“Don't ever forget how strong you are,” Gretchen said, lips brushing her hairline. 

 

Claire smiled for real. Small, but real, as she sat in Gretchen’s arms. 

 

She sighed. “Lyle calls me. Always the pest,” she laughed. “He's such a good kid. He says our parents are fine. Well, not great, but above ground.” She hugged Gretchen tight around her neck. “Anyway, I have more family now.”

 

Gretchen patted her arm, loosening Claire's hold so she could breathe. “My parents adore her. And they think it's ‘so progressive’ I'm dating someone evolved,” she air quoted. “We see them on holidays.”

 

Mohinder couldn't believe Bennett would betray his own daughter like that. He imagined shooting him again and it made him sick. 

 

“But enough tragedies, Claire, guess what?” Gretchen cut through the room's tension with cheer. 

 

“What?”

 

“We finally have enough people in the house …” she grinned open mouthed, gripping Claire's arm. “... to play Clue!”

 

“Game night!” she turned to the men on the couch. “You down?”

 

Mohinder shrugged. “Sounds fun.”

 

“Gonna have to teach me. Haven't played many games.”

 

Gretchen turned to Sylar with a disbelieving face. 

 

“Only child. I've spent most of life amusing myself, interacting with people in friendly situations is still kinda new.”

 

“Really?” Claire rolled her eyes as she stood.

 

“I'm learning.” Sylar stretched, arm out over the back of the couch and long legs crossed.

 

Claire came back in the room with arms loaded with game boxes. 

 

Mohinder leaned forward, whispering loudly. “Don't teach him anything.” He leaned back to sit right. “Once he learns, he'll trounce us. Let him suffer for a while.” He glanced at Sylar, whose lips were twisted in a half smile while still trying to pout. Mohinder grinned back at him and leaned into his hand draped over the couch. 

 

“Okay,” Claire drawled, setting up the first game board. “If you two are done, we have a murder to solve.” 

  
  
  
  
  


They killed a second bottle of wine, close to two pizzas, and three board games before Sylar got up to stretch and walk off his winning streak. 

 

“Do you guys need anything?” Gretchen asked before she wandered to the kitchen. 

 

“Um, actually.” Mohinder picked at his shirt. “Can we do laundry?” 

 

She laughed at him and pointed him to the washer. 

 

He stood and waited as the wine hit bottom, feeling his head go light. “Give me your clothes,” he bumped Sylar's arm.

 

“I thought you'd never ask.” With a cocky smile, he unbuttoned his shirt and handed it over. 

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes as Sylar crossed his arms over his undershirt. He tried to ignore the way the movement accentuated his lean muscles. 

 

“Get over yourself.” He shooed Sylar down the hall and followed. “I didn't know you had a tattoo,” he said, seeing thin black lines on Sylar's shoulder, half hidden under his tank. 

 

“You don't know everything about me,” he said, drowned out by Claire yelling. 

 

“Sylar, god, why is that still on you?!”

 

He turned and raised his arms around Mohinder’s head, showing Claire his bare skin. “Don't worry, it's not.”

 

“You better hope! Creep.” She threw the Clue candlestick at him, grazing his cheek. 

 

Mohinder kept walking down the hall, forcing Sylar to walk backwards before him. “What's she taking about?”

 

Sylar turned and sighed. They turned into the spare room. 

 

Gretchen followed with a laundry basket. “He showed up with Claire's face tattooed on his arm. He kissed her and they turned each other gay,” she said cheerfully. 

 

“What?” Mohinder laughed. 

 

“That's not how it works.” Sylar looked annoyed. He poured his bag out on the bed. 

 

“How does that work then?” Mohinder was still laughing. “Why'd you kiss Claire?”

 

“Goddamnit. It's a power. The tattoo shows someone's deepest desires. Since it's on me, my desire.”

 

“Claire?” Mohinder wasn't laughing anymore. 

Sylar turned and raised the shirt up his back and held it over his chest.  

 

“Oh,” Mohinder moved closer to look at it better.  Sylar had two pocket watches tattooed on his shoulder blade. “Your deepest desire is watches?” He traced over the tangle of chain between them, noticing they were on the same chain. “Oh! It moves!” The minute hand on both faces ticked ahead. 

 

Sylar chuckled. He leaned into Mohinder’s fingers tracing the smooth skin. “Yeah, it does that. I can control the ink,” he said as the chain untangled. Mohinder watched the ink run fluidly under his fingers and snatched his hand back. “But it gets finicky. You can't deny your own desires. Or control your own truth.”

 

He pulled his shirt down and turned around. “I just want someone to share my time,” he said sadly. 

 

Mohinder cocked his head and thought. 

 

Sylar sat down and unfolded the dirty clothes he had dumped on the bed, throwing them in the basket. 

 

“Hence Claire,” Mohinder said quietly. “Who else could share immortal time?”

 

“Got it in one.”

 

“Sylar. I'm so sorry.” Mohinder sat next to him, hands tangling restlessly together in his lap.

 

Sylar shook his head. “Don't be.”

 

They both turned when Claire, leaning on the doorjamb, interrupted. “Welcome to the meeting of the morose immortal homos. Party of two.”

 

Mohinder laid his hand on Sylar's lap. He turned it to let Sylar's sit palm to palm, fingers weaving together. 

 

Claire cleared her throat and Sylar took his hand back. Mohinder’s hand felt cold without it. 

 

“I hate to break this moment, but I'm about to finish this bottle of wine without you if you don't hurry up.”

 

Mohinder was already feeling the alcohol himself and looked at her crazy. “I really don't think getting tanked is smart tonight.”

 

Claire shrugged. “Can't get drunk,” she said flippantly. “Side effect of the healing.”

 

Mohinder turned to Sylar, who nodded confirmation. “There are nights I really just want to get drunk, too. Pity.”

 

Mohinder was a little upset he had been the only one buzzed when he and Sylar went out. Sylar reached out and thumbed his crooked pout. He stood and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his laundry. Mohinder had never seen him wear them. He threw Mohinder’s bag at him and left the room. 

 

Claire moved to stand in front of him. She crossed her arms and looked for all the world like a tiny fluffy dog puffing up. “What are you doing?” 

 

He held up the pants he was straightening out. “Laundry.”

 

“With Sylar,” she ground out. 

 

“Helping him catch a killer.” It was the only fact he knew for one hundred percent certain. 

 

Claire shoved his shoulder with her small hand. “Don't make me hurt you, okay?”

 

Mohinder raised his eyebrows. “Okay.” She glared and left with her hair flying behind her. Mohinder stared after, confused. 

 

He changed into his sleep pants and after a thought, the stolen Ramones shirt, since it was the cleanest in his possession. Everything else went in the basket. 

 

Sylar met him in the hall, looking soft with sweats pushed halfway up his calves. He added his jeans to the basket and took it from Mohinder. 

 

He came back to the couch with a fresh bottle of wine and topped off Claire's glass, pouring some for Mohinder after his half assed protest, and himself, letting Gretchen continue her first glass. He sat cross legged on the couch and watched Claire as she decided on the next game. Stinky jumped up and curled into his lap. Sylar's hand immediately went to the dog. 

 

“Monopoly?” she asked Gretchen. 

 

“No, we should go to sleep some time tonight, got work tomorrow.”

 

“Scrabble?” Sylar asked. 

 

Claire ixnayed that one. “Not with you two, gheeze. Life?”

 

“I guess so, since that's the last choice.” Gretchen moved to her knees on the floor to set up the board. 

 

“What's this one?” Mohinder asked. 

 

“You play out your life, school to retirement, but it's all through the cards dealt. Good luck!” Claire helped set up. 

 

Mohinder swirled his wine before drinking. He felt Sylar’s eyes on him so he turned and threw his legs up on his lap to be annoying. Sylar hummed and rested his free hand on his shin. 

 

Everyone chose to take the ‘college’ path except Sylar. “Did you go to school?” Mohinder asked. He sometimes forgot his knowledge of the man was so lacking. 

 

“Took a few classes but didn't finish. Didn't see it necessary.”

 

“What do you do?” Gretchen spun the wheel. 

“I ran my uncle's watch shop.”

 

Mohinder smiled, thinking of his tattoo. He drank more wine to hide it. 

 

“Now I'm just running across the country.” He leaned over Mohinder’s legs to reach the board. Mohinder started to pull them back but Sylar laid his arm across his shins to stop him. He telekinetically spun the wheel and moved his piece. 

 

“Showoff,” Claire smiled. 

 

Sylar made Mohinder’s moves for him. Mohinder watched and drank. The wine was very nice. He felt very nice. 

 

Mohinder landed on the ‘get married’ space. 

 

“Do you want a wife or a husband?” Gretchen asked, hand lingering over the tiny people pegs. 

 

Mohinder thought for a moment. “Is it really that easy? You just ask which you want?”

 

Gretchen looked at the other two players, confused. “Yes?”

 

Sylar was looking hard at him when Mohinder turned to him. “How do you know?” 

 

“Mohinder, are you asking -”

 

“He fucked a boy from Jersey, now which do  _ you _ want?” Claire interrupted. 

 

“Claire! Jesus!” Sylar was pissed.

 

Mohinder smiled at the news. “What boy from Jersey?”

 

“You don't know him,” Sylar answered before turning to Claire and snapping, “Would you shut the fuck up?” He turned back to Mohinder with a sigh. “I knew way before that, denial just runs deep in Catholic boys,” he continued bitterly. 

 

“Ooh, yes it does,” Gretchen muttered. 

 

“I didn't know you were Catholic.” Mohinder remembered seeing Sylar's apartment, the secret room professing his guilt and his sins and he wasn't really surprised by the fact. 

 

“My aunt's religion. I never really believed, I stopped pretending a long time ago. Why is this grill Sylar hour?”

 

“It's not,” Claire placated. “Its just the natural progression of conversation as we figure out if Mohinder wants a husband? Or a wife?”

 

“You don't need to answer,” Sylar said quietly. He rubbed his leg. 

 

Mohinder breathed deep and looked at his glass. “Well, I've never fucked a boy from Jersey.”

 

“Goddamnit.” Sylar flicked his fingers and a career card hit Claire's forehead. She continued smiling and brushing cards away as Sylar flung them.

 

“I've always wanted to,” Mohinder continued quietly. 

 

“What?” Sylar turned to him, a card floating in the air in front of him. 

 

“Maybe not from Jersey,” he smiled as Sylar swore and flicked the last card with extra force over Claire's head. “But I've always had my interest piqued by certain men. It's just easier in India to be straight, so I never acted on any of it.”

 

“You're not in India right now,” Sylar breathed. 

 

“You're right. We're in Texas,” he deadpanned.

 

Claire laughed. “So true.”

 

“Why  _ did _ you two move here?” Mohinder asked. 

 

Claire shrugged. “Needed the change.”

 

He nodded. “Change is good.”

 

“That's great. Really. But you didn't answer my question,” Gretchen cut in. “Do you want a husband or wife? We're still playing a game.”

 

Sylar picked up one of each color person peg and floated them to Mohinder, who snatched both from the air. “Just saying,” Mohinder grunted as he leaned far over to the game board, “I've never given marriage a thought actually.” He placed a peg in the passenger seat of his game piece and threw the other back in the box. 

 

Sylar stared blankly at the two blue pegs in his car until his next turn, when Mohinder had to dig his heel in his thigh for attention.

 

“Sorry.” He spun the wheel with too much force. Mohinder rubbed his foot where he had jabbed; Sylar wrapped his hands around it and ran his fingers up his instep.

 

Mohinder moaned and leaned back. He poked Sylar with his other foot and answered the questioning eyebrow, “You have two hands.”

 

Sylar laughed and kicked him and Stinky off, turning so his back was against the arm. He patted his leg, calling back both the dog and Mohinder. Stinky curled under his arm.

 

“Animals really like you,” Mohinder noticed. 

 

“These dogs sure do,” Sylar grinned as he rubbed Mohinder’s feet in earnest. 

 

“Why don't I get foot rubs, babe?” Mohinder heard Gretchen pout as he scooted down the couch further into Sylar's hands. 

 

“Because I'm not trying too hard,” Claire answered. 

 

Mohinder flipped them off and they laughed. Sylar could keep trying hard, that was fine with him. A little harder, maybe. He wiggled his toes and Sylar indeed rubbed harder, thumbs pressing deep. 

 

“Damn. Are you sure you don't read minds?” he asked, half wondering why his mouth kept running away. 

 

“Yeah. But I told you, I learn quick. It's what I do, I understand how things work and how to perfect things.”

 

“You understand how I work?”

 

“I don't understand you at all.” Mohinder opened his eyes and saw Sylar shake his head. 

 

They continued the game, Sylar making their moves with his mind, keeping his hands occupied. They chit chatted - how school and work had been going for the girls, Mohinder glossing over the boring life he had been leading in New York, Sylar talking about the places he had traveled to while not mentioning the reason he had been there.

 

Sylar's hands traveled up Mohinder’s calf, squeezing the muscle under his pants. His answering moan was bordering obscene, even to his own ears. 

 

“Are you drunk?” Sylar asked, running his fingers softly over Mohinder’s ankles. 

 

He shivered at the ticklish touch. “I will be at the end of this glass.”

 

The wine was plucked from his hand and floated to the floor on Sylar's side of the couch. “Maybe that’s enough, then.”

 

Mohinder sighed. “Buzzkill.” He threw his arms back over the couch arm and stretched. Sylar's hands were warm as they slid up his shins and he could feel himself start to nod off. 

 

Mohinder wasn't paying attention as he lost the game of Life. Claire won, retiring rich with too many children. 

 

“Woohoo, finally!” She pushed at Gretchen’s shoulder, the girl half asleep next to her. “Bedtime, baby. Gotta go to work in the morning.”

 

“Don't wanna,” Gretchen protested but got up slowly. Sylar slid out from under Mohinder’s legs and helped clean up. Mohinder started to get up to help but Sylar raised a hand and his power pushed him back to the couch. He exhaled hard, head swimming. 

 

Sylar shook him awake, brushing Stinky off his chest. “Come on.” His voice and hands were soft as he pulled Mohinder to the room.

 

“That was fun. That was a good idea, Sylar.”

 

“Thanks. I have them sometimes.” He pushed Mohinder to the mattress and watched him bounce. 

 

“Mmm. This is a good idea, too.” He smiled, feeling his eyes slip closed. Sylar wrestled the blanket out from under him and pulled it over them as he rolled on his side and pushed his pillow further under his head. With one hand under the pillow and one pressed to Sylar's chest, he fell asleep. 


	28. Chapter 28

“Good morning!”

 

Mohinder was awakened by far too much cheer. He grumbled and slid his pillow over his head. 

 

Sylar tightened his hand over Mohinder’s hip. “I swear to god, Claire, I may not kill you but I can still rip your skull off. Do  _ not _ tempt me.” His voice was thick with sleep. 

 

Claire threw herself on Sylar's side of the bed. “Aww, grumpy butt. Someone not sleep much last night?” she teased.

 

Sylar smacked her with his pillow. She laughed and Mohinder gave up trying for more sleep. He turned and watched them wrestle - an uneven match with Sylar still wrapped in the blankets. The sheets shifted as he moved and Mohinder protested, “Hey. Hey!” Sylar reached behind his head and waved his hand in defeat. Mohinder smacked it away. 

 

“Come on, Gretchen’s making waffles. From a box, not the toaster!” she said, standing and dusting imaginary pillow feathers off her jeans. 

 

“Hey,” Sylar motioned for her to come closer. She did and he dragged her down and kissed the top of her head. 

 

“Eew. Don't do that, you'll make the good doctor jealous.” She winked as she shut the door behind her. 

 

Mohinder sighed and pulled the blankets back from Sylar. The man rolled with them. His eyes searched Mohinder’s face. He leaned closer. 

 

“Are you?” he asked. “Jealous?”

 

Mohinder couldn't speak as he mouthed  _ no. _

 

Sylar shivered. “I can't just let you be jealous,” he near-whispered, propping up on his elbow. His other hand stretched out over Mohinder’s head to rest on the bed and he leaned in slowly.

 

Mohinder wrapped his hand around Sylar's cheek and held his breath.

 

He gasped when Sylar kissed him soft. Once, twice, harder. Mohinder kissed him back eagerly. Sylar moaned and caught Mohinder’s bottom lip between his own. Mohinder arched off the bed as a shiver ran down his back. Sylar moved to straddle him and Mohinder’s hands anchored his hips. He was thrilled to see Sylar had lost the sweats before going to bed. 

 

Mohinder ran his tongue over Sylar's lip and into his mouth. Sylar grabbed Mohinder’s hair and pulled back for a deeper angle; Mohinder’s breath caught and he surged up and pulled Sylar's hips down. He was moaning and running his hands up Sylar's sides, feeling him twitch and tasting his moans. 

 

Feeling how hard Sylar was on top of him, Mohinder ran his hands down the back of his boxers and bit his lip as Sylar pulled back. 

 

“Hng,” Sylar pulled back. “Nuhuh,” he chastised, licking his lips. He reached for Mohinder’s hands and held them out to the sides as he rolled his hips. Mohinder moaned and tilted his hips so his cock lined up along Sylar's as he ground down. Sylar bit his lip and threw his head back. 

 

Mohinder wrestled his hands back and pushed Sylar's shirt up his stomach, fingers trailing in the dark hairs by his navel. Sylar looked down and shook his head. His pupils were lust blown. Mohinder’s nails raked down Sylar's skin and over the front of his hips. He framed Sylar's cock straining his boxers with his fingers. Watching Sylar with hungry eyes, he dragged his hands closer to their target. He bit his lip. 

 

Heaving a shaking breath, Sylar laced their fingers together and fell forward, pressing Mohinder’s hands into the pillow by his head. 

“Do I have to hold these down?” he breathed. 

 

The thought sent a fire through Mohinder. He nodded, beyond turned on at the thought. “Sy-” he was cut off with a hard kiss and a soft tongue. 

 

Sylar moved his hands up Mohinder’s arms from his wrists, gliding fingers raising goosebumps in their wake. He pulled his hands back and Mohinder felt steady growing pressure, unseen on his wrists,  holding him down.

 

Mohinder tilted his head back and panted. 

 

Sylar kissed down his chin and neck as Mohinder writhed in his telekenetic bonds. He pulled Mohinder’s shirt neck down and bit at his collarbone. 

 

Mohinder cried out and Sylar slapped a hand over his mouth. He raised an admonishing eyebrow. He dragged his free hand down Mohinder’s chest and pushed his shirt up. He held Mohinder’s eyes as he kissed down his breast bone and over his chest. As his lips slid over a brown nipple, Mohinder had to bite Sylar's hand to keep quiet. 

 

Sylar swirled his tongue and sucked hard; Mohinder bucked and could feel he was close to coming. He planted his feet and rolled his hips in a fast grind against Sylar. 

 

Sylar moaned and nosed up Mohinder’s cheek. His breath tickled his ear and he whispered through his hair, “If you keep that up, I'll never be able to let you go.”

 

Mohinder keened and kept thrusting. 

 

With a groan, Sylar sat up, his weight pushing Mohinder down. His hands stroked Mohinder’s sides, palms flat up, nails dragging down. 

 

Like a pinned butterfly, Mohinder was caught; his wrists held firm in the pillows and his hips flat under Sylar's. Sylar's face softened. He pressed a hand to Mohinder’s cheek and leaned over, kissing him with a slow slide of tongue against his lips. “Good morning, Mohinder,” he purred. 

 

Sylar stood with a lingering gaze. Mohinder whined as Sylar's eyes slid down his body and back. 

 

Sylar looked completely calm except for the flush high on his cheeks and the erection straining his boxers. Mohinder felt like he was flying apart.

 

He shut his eyes. The hold on his wrists released and he slid his arms down slowly. 

 

When he opened his eyes, Sylar was gone. 

 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stretched his legs, feeling his hips tighten and his cock rub in his pants. “Fu-uck.”

 

He licked his lips, tasting Sylar and wine breath. He sighed and ran his hand over his chest, catching on his nipple still peaked from Sylar's mouth, slightly tacky with drying saliva. 

 

He heard Sylar walk past the door and down the hall. He sat up with a groan, clothing brushing against sensitive skin. He snuck to the bathroom down the hall and tore his pants and boxers down, giving himself two hard strokes before he came hard, knees weak as he watched his come splash in the toilet. 

 

Sylar was making him crazy. 

  
  
  
  


He dumped their clothes on the bed and dressed quickly. Stinky tried to trip him in the hall, racing back and forth. 

 

Sylar's laugh, rich and deep, rang through the kitchen as Mohinder entered the kitchen. He braced himself for whatever Sylar was going to throw at him - teasing, flirting, jokes. For a moment he even thought ridicule could be on the table. 

 

Sylar just smiled when they met eyes, slow and sweet. He looked down, almost shy. “Good morning, Mohinder.” He was manning the stove as the girls stood over the waffle iron, heads together. “How do you like your eggs?”

 

“I thought you were vegetarian?” Claire asked. 

 

“I eat eggs. And milk. Could you imagine life without cheese?” He moved to stand by the stove. “However you're cooking yours,” he answered Sylar, watching him flip a fried egg. 

 

Claire pulled a fresh waffle off the iron and Gretchen poured more batter. When they weren't looking, Sylar broke a quarter off the hot waffle stacked with others on a plate and bit it with a grin. He offered it to Mohinder, who shook his head and watched Sylar eat and cook. 

 

“Can you hand me a plate?” he asked, fingers brushing against Mohinder’s as he took it. Mohinder stood too close and Sylar's eyes kept falling to his lips. Sylar bit his lip and looked shy again; Mohinder felt himself flush. 

 

“Hey! Waffle thief!” 

 

Sylar smiled and turned back to the stove. 

 

They had breakfast holding their plates in the kitchen, laughing at nothing in the morning sunlight. Mohinder leaned against the counter Sylar was sitting on and couldn't remember a moment more peaceful. 

 

The girls finished and went to their bedroom to get ready for work. Sylar brushed against Mohinder’s hand as he followed to change his clothes. He hooked his fingers on Mohinder’s and turned, trailing his hand out as they broke apart. 

 

Mohinder’s heart sped, watching Sylar walk away. 

 

The kitchen was quiet around him with everyone gone. He put the dishes in the sink to wash and heard a siren drive by. As he waited for the water to heat up, he heard two more in rapid successful. 

 

Curious, he turned off the tap and went to the living room, opening the door as another siren went blaring by. He followed the police car down the street to the corner, where an ambulance, a fire truck, and three police cruisers were surrounding a convenience store. 

 

His heart raced again, the pounding, encompassing beat of fear. 

 

He pushed through the growing group of lookie loos and saw a lone pickup in the parking lot. Inside was a young man with half a head. On the ground by the truck was a large cowboy hat. 


	29. Chapter 29

“Hey, where'd you go?” Sylar answered his phone. 

 

“It's the pizza boy,” Mohinder croaked. 

 

“What?”

 

“The delivery boy from last night. He's dead. He was the victim.”

 

“Oh my god, where are you?”

 

Mohinder told him and heard Sylar's boots hitting the pavement behind him before they hung up. 

 

Sylar stopped next to him, resting his hand on his hip. “Mohinder.” He turned at his name, face pained. “Honey. Are you okay?”

 

“I'm going to be sick.”

 

“Right now?” Sylar looked for a place to throw up but they were boxed in with onlookers. 

 

“No. I'll be alright,” he said as his stomach jumped. “I didn't get close. Can you?”

 

“Maybe. There's a lot of people here.” He stood on his toes for a better vantage. “Will you be alright?” He held Mohinder’s face in his hands and searched his eyes. Mohinder nodded and Sylar pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked into the crowd. 

 

Mohinder wrapped his arms around himself and backed through the crowd, people eagerly filling in his space to see the butchery.

 

He had to find something. There had to be a clue. He had no idea where to start.

 

He walked the edge of the parking lot. Movement to the side caught his eye and he saw a paramedic turning a circle to follow him, eyes hard and sharp. He felt guilty under the glare even though he had done nothing. He stood by the empty payphone booth in front of the building and fiddled with his phone, hoping to look sufficiently busy and innocent. 

 

Her glare did not move. Mohinder’s skin crawled and he looked around. There was graffiti on the wall of the convenience store but nothing in obvious red. Discouraged and wary, he turned to leave, typing Sylar a text as he turned. 

 

He passed the phone booth again and stopped dead. On the side in fresh red paint was the word TRICKS, crossed out. An S wearing a crown was underneath, like a signature. ‘hcdxa’ was scrawled on the other side; he deleted the message he had typed and sent Sylar the code instead. 

 

He stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed, and waited. 

 

It didn't take long for Sylar to come jogging back to him, shooing him ahead. “Go, go, I was made, go.”

 

“Shit.” They walked quickly down the street. “There was a paramedic staring at me like I was under suspicion.”

 

“Black lady, intense eyes?” Mohinder nodded. “Yeah, she wasn't falling for my lines. Looked at me like she was running through the BOLO database in her head.”

 

“Wouldn't that be a useful power?”

 

“Fuck. Go faster.”

 

Claire met them in the driveway. “What the hell? I look up and Sylar's running out the door, you're gone,” she smacked Mohinder in the chest. “And all your shit is still in my guestroom.”

 

“Found the murder victim,” Mohinder mumbled, stomach turning as blood flashed across his vision. He pushed past the duo in the yard and through the door. 

 

“Mohinder. Do you need help?” Sylar tugged the hem of his shirt. 

 

“No,” he croaked and all but ran to the bathroom. 

 

He threw up breakfast, syrup burning all the way up. When he was done, he still saw the boy's skull, open and empty, surrounded by gore inside his truck and he heaved until he cried. 

 

There was a light knock on the door and he flushed before Sylar opened the door. He put Mohinder’s toothbrush on the counter and kneeled with him, rubbing his back. 

 

Mohinder wiped his face and finally gasped a full breath. Sylar didn't speak or stare at him, just touched him. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered. Sylar nodded and helped him up, leaving him to brush his teeth. 

 

His legs were weak as he walked to the kitchen. Gretchen was finishing the dishes. “I was going to do those. I'm sorry.” His throat hurt. 

 

“Well, now you're just going to sit down, okay?” she ordered him with a pointing finger. 

 

He plopped down on the couch like lead. 

 

“Is it always like that?” Claire asked as she sat on the cardboard box coffee table. He hadn't heard her enter the room. 

 

“I dont know. This is only the second one I've seen. Sylar has seen them all, or extrapolated from what's left in the aftermath.” He sighed. “I've seen corpses before, but these are just … carnage.”

 

“Are you okay?” she laid a hand on his knee. 

Mohinder laughed, humorless. “Why is everyone so worried about  _ me _ ?”

 

“Someone has to be,” Sylar said, sitting next to him on the couch. “The code you found? Idaho Falls. We have a drive ahead of us after Arizona.”

 

Mohinder nodded. “There was something else. He painted the word ‘tricks’ with a slash through it.” He looked at Sylar. “What's that mean?”

 

Sylar shook his head. 

 

“Was coming here a mistake?” Mohinder turned to Claire and corrected, “Not that it wasn't lovely, I haven't had a night so nice in longer than I can remember.”

 

“He might have thought it was a trick, I don't know,” Sylar thought it over. 

 

“But if he thought we were trying to trap him …”

 

“Which you were,” Claire butt in. 

 

“That wasn't my intention.” Sylar leaned forward. “I didn't even think of it. Brains here did,” he elbowed Mohinder gently. 

 

“He wants us to play by his rules.” Mohinder fell silent and looked down at his knees. “That's his game. We're choosing for him. We're choosing his victims.” He searched Sylar's eyes. “He waits until we get where he wants us and he follows us. That's why the murders are right where we are. He's following us.” His stomach clenched but was too empty to do anything else. “We're showing him who to kill,” he whispered. “We did this.”

 

“No. No, no, Mohinder, this was him, this was not you.” Sylar gripped his hand in both of his own. “We didn't do any of this. Don't you dare tear yourself apart.”

 

“Why tear myself apart when I can wait for him to do it for me?” He felt on the edge of hysteria.

 

Claire was watching them both warily. “Why are you guys doing this? Why follow him?”

 

“We have to stop this. I can't just let this creep keep killing people,” Sylar answered, angry. “You can't expect me to just let this keep happening?! This is his twelfth fucking victim, Claire, only twelve because one survived. Because we were there to stop it!”

 

“Sylar, I know,” she said, holding up her hands. “I’m not telling you to stop or give up, just … does it  _ have _ to be you?”

 

“Who else would it be?” Mohinder asked dryly. “I don't trust anyone to stop a dangerous killer without trying to mold them into their own weapon.” Sylar's hands squeezed Mohinder’s very tight and he turned to him, “I'm sorry.”

 

Sylar grit his teeth and exhaled slow and deep. “That was fair.”

 

Claire was looking at their hands; Mohinder’s first urge was to pull away. He twitched back and Sylar let him go. “What are you going to do when you catch him?” she asked. 

 

Sitting back on the couch, Sylar crossed his arms and said he didn't know. 

 

“Don't kill him.”

 

“No.” Sylar shook his head vehemently. 

 

“I might … I may have connections that can help us put him away, I don't know for sure,” Mohinder said quietly. 

 

Claire nodded at him and stood, punching Sylar's shoulder. “I mean it. Don't do anything stupid. I need you.”

 

“You don't need me.”

 

Claire shook her head and Gretchen called her name as she threw a large pill bottle across the room at her. She caught it and dry swallowed two large pills. Mohinder caught the words on the label. 

 

“Claire,” he motioned to it. 

 

She grinned and shook the bottle, tossing it underhand to Sylar. “I need you. Gretch and I …” Sylar stared dumbfounded at the prenatal pills in his hand. “We're going to be moms,” she beamed. 

 

“Claire,” he said breathlessly. 

 

“We've just barely started the process, I'm going to be taking these for a year and fertility drugs before we start insemination, but yeah.”

 

Gretchen hugged her from behind. “We're going to be a family.”

 

“And I need all the rest of the family I have,” Claire finished quietly. 

 

Sylar stood and wrapped her in a tight hug, awkward with their height difference and with Gretchen sandwiching her from the back. “That's so wonderful.”

 

“So don't do anything stupid. This kid needs a weird uncle.”

 

Mohinder watched Sylar shut his eyes. “Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“I was waiting to use it as leverage,” she teased. Sylar huffed over her head and kissed her on the temple. 

 

“I'm so happy for you. Really.”

 

Mohinder felt like he was intruding. He watched from the side of his eye as the two talked softly and Gretchen unwound herself and sat next to him. He could feel her eyes on him and ignored her as long as he could. 

 

“What?” he asked, turning to her. She flicked her eyes to the excited duo next to them and Mohinder’s followed, unable to stop their slow drag over Sylar's form. He looked so happy and comfortable, like he really  _ was _ a different person from who he was years ago. The difference struck Mohinder hard. 

 

He turned back to Gretchen and asked “What?” again, impatient. She raised her eyebrows and gave a tiny shake of her head. She stood and tapped Claire on the hip. 

 

“We're late, baby,” she said.  

 

“Damnit, I'm just going to be late today.” She pushed Sylar away and fixed her hair. “So I can't convince you to stay?”

 

Sylar looked at Mohinder on the couch and sighed. “I have to go, I have to try to stop this. Mohinder?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “You don't have to come with me. I didn't realize how dangerous and stupid this was when I asked you, I wasn't thinking.”

 

“I'm coming with you,” Mohinder said with finality. Sylar smiled. 

 

“Then we should get going to Phoenix.” He turned back to the guestroom. 

 

“Ugh, fine. Give me your phone,” Claire motioned to Mohinder. He gave it over and she typed something quickly. “That's my number.  _ Call me _ before he does something dumb. I mean it.” She glared at him as he stood. “And take care of him. I will beat the shit outta you if you hurt him.”

 

Mohinder raised his hands in surrender. “I don't know what you think I'm going to do.”

 

She glared at him harder before pulling him into a hug. Mohinder stood shocked before he patted her on the back. “You're a good guy.”

 

Mohinder shook his head but stayed silent. He held her in a tight squeeze before they broke apart. He stepped back and into Sylar's waiting hand, wrapping around his waist. 

 

“We should let them leave,” Sylar told him. “Are you ready?”

 

Mohinder nodded and they said their farewells - a quick one to Gretchen as she ran out the door and Sylar lingering with Claire in the driveway. Mohinder threw their bags in the back and gave them space. His gaze wandered down the street and he felt nauseous again. He fiddled with his hands, picking nervously at his nails. 

 

He couldn't wait to leave. 

 

“Be careful!” Claire yelled at them as she stepped into her car. 

 

Sylar turned to him and started to say something but Mohinder stepped into his space and slid his fingers into Sylar's pocket, grabbing the car keys and twirling them around his finger. Sylar watched him, open mouthed. 

 

“Let's go.” He slipped into the driver's seat and waited for Sylar to hop in. 

 

Sylar directed him to the freeway and rested his hand on Mohinder’s headrest. Mohinder could feel the weight of his glances but he stayed silent. 

 

Sylar changed the CD to something Mohinder didn't know but he felt Sylar tap the drumbeat into the headrest behind him. It was lulling him to sleepiness after a while so he spoke to stay awake. 

 

“Did you lose it? When these murders started and you saw them, you saw what was left?”

 

Sylar looked at the road ahead, thick with traffic. “No.”

 

“Oh.” Well, so much for his masculinity, losing his shit like that alone. 

 

“When I died,” Sylar started and stopped. “When I came back, I couldn't remember anything. Who I was, even my name. Someone brought my memories back, but, Jesus, they showed me what I'd  _ done _ first. I knew I was a murderer before I knew I was anything else.” His voice broke. “I couldn't take it, I couldn't be that monster.”

 

He looked over at Mohinder. “This guy doesn't scare me because I am my own worst nightmare. He has nothing on me.” He shook his head. “Some days I only keep living because I cannot die.”

 

Mohinder couldn't look back at him. 

 

“I dont know if I'll ever get back what I lost that day.”

 

“Sylar. I'm sorry I asked,” he said sadly as he touched his leg. Sylar wrapped his hand around Mohinder’s and they rode like that until Mohinder needed to downshift as traffic slowed. Sylar moved so he was half leaning on the door. 

 

His breaths deepened and he fell into a doze. Mohinder turned down the music but the volume knob turned back as he removed his fingers. He glanced over and Sylar was smiling, eyes still closed. 

 

“I thought you were asleep.”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay. We need to stop for gas soon.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

Silence filled the car again until Mohinder pulled over for fuel. Sylar stretched, long limbs reaching over his and Mohinder’s heads and deep under the glove compartment. Mohinder watched the pale length of his neck as he tilted his head back and his mouth went dry as he imagined scraping his teeth along it. 

 

“What are we doing?” he asked quickly, before he could back out. 

 

Sylar rolled his head to look at him as he finished his stretch, fingers splayed and reaching. “Getting gas. What do you mean?” he yawned. 

 

Mohinder shook his head. “No. What are  _ we _ doing?” He ran his hand up Sylar's thigh. “What was that this morning?”

 

Sylar stared at him. “I'd say that was a culmination of years of attraction. I  _ would _ say it was just me, but …” he licked along his top lip. “I think I know better now.”

 

Mohinder’s heart pounded. “But what  _ is _ it?”

 

Sylar's eyes roamed his face. “What do you want it to be?” he asked in an unexpectedly fragile voice. Mohinder shook his head, unable to voice an answer he didn't know. “Then why call it anything now.”

 

“Can I …” Mohinder leaned over the center consul and tilted Sylar's head back a little, maintaining eye contact. He moved his head closer, feeling Sylar's heartbeat flutter maniacally under his fingers. Sylar panted as Mohinder ran his lips in a kiss up his neck, ending with the gentle scrape of teeth he desired. 

 

“God yes. Please, Mohinder.” He tilted his head further and dug his hands into Mohinder’s hair as he kissed the already healed scratch, lips wet and soft. “Oh my god.”

 

Mohinder pulled back but Sylar tugged him into a kiss. The hold in his hair was relentless.

 

“So I kiss you in your dreams? How long have you been dreaming of this?” Mohinder heard himself ask, lips brushing Sylar's. 

 

“Oh fuck, honey, how long since we met?”

 

“Ooh,” was the only response Mohinder could drag out of his mouth. 

 

Sylar shifted in the seat and Mohinder imagined he was getting hard; he bit at Sylar's lip and confirmed he was, stroking his open palm over the erection behind Sylar's fly. 

 

“Fuck! Baby, no.”

 

Mohinder whined as he kissed down Sylar's jaw. He pressed the heel of his hand harder into Sylar, hearing him moan in response. 

 

Sylar grabbed his hand, pushing it away. “You have to stop. We're at a gas station in fucking Texas. We're in public and they have sodomy laws, think about it. You have to stop that now.”

 

Mohinder looked out the window, seeing a car parked two pumps down and a few more further away. There were people milling about in front of the store. “Fuck them. Fuck Texas.” He moved back to kiss Sylar. 

 

Sylar found purchase in his curls again and pulled him back. “Hold that thought, okay? I plan to cash it, believe me.”

 

“Fucking better.” The hold Sylar had in his hair felt connected directly to his dick, minute little pulls reverberating down his length and pulling him the direction of orgasm. “You better let go of my hair, then,” he breathed. 

 

Sylar huffed a sharp exhale and did as told. 

 

Mohinder turned back to his own seat and leaned back, breathing deep and trying to calm down. He glanced over and saw Sylar with his hand in his jeans trying to readjust his cock. 

 

“Oh fuck.” There went all his calm. 

 

Sylar smiled shyly at him, blushing furiously cheeks to temples. “Stop! Mohinder, Jesus. You are …” he shook his head and got out of the car. 

 

Mohinder closed his eyes and listened to Sylar fuel the car. He thought of cricket stats to distract himself. He pressed his fingers to his eyes and tried not to think how much crazier this trip was making him. 

 


	30. Chapter 30

Mohinder woke up alone in the car. Sylar's coat was draped over him. He rubbed his eyes, swollen from crappy sleep, and looked outside at the night passing by. 

 

Where the hell was Sylar? He had still been driving through Texas near the Mexican border when Mohinder had nodded off. 

 

He stretched and reached in his pocket for his phone. When he flipped it open, he saw a text composed but not sent. He hadn't written it. 

 

_ Hey sleeping beauty _

_ Had an errand _

_ Be back asap _

_ Dream of sweet things _

_ Or me ;) _

_ <3 S _

 

He erased Sylar's message and sent one simply asking where the hell he was. 

 

He didn't get anything back. He waited fifteen tense minutes, flipping mindlessly through the novel they had been sharing in the passenger seat. He thought about sending another one. He thought about messy blood and missing brains and Sylar alone when a killer was apparently stalking around them. His stomach knotted. 

 

He checked the time and composed another text. It was early morning at home, Molly should be getting ready for her day's classes. 

 

_ I need your help, honey. _

_ Where is he?  _

_ I'm sorry to ask.  _

_ I'll call real soon _ . 

 

He got a reply quickly:

 

_ In a basement _

_ With people _

_ Not alone _

_ Safe  _

 

Molly sent a street address next. Like that helped, Mohinder didn't even know what city he was in. 

 

_ Have class now _

_ Stay safe _

_ Love you <3 _

 

He smiled and sent one back.

 

_ Love you, Molly.  _

_ I'll call this weekend. _

 

Okay, Sylar was probably nearby. He found the car keys in his other pocket and got out. It was chilly so he shrugged into Sylar's coat.  The car was parked on a quiet residential street; the nightlife around him consisted of an elderly couple walking hand in hand and a cat chasing a leaf in the breeze. 

 

He spun in a circle and decided to walk the direction the car was pointing. 

 

His thoughts wandered and he tried to shut them out. They all swirled in blood. 

 

Where the fuck was he? 

 

Mohinder passed a corner store and hustled past. He checked his phone as he crossed the street - no messages. Damnit. 

 

As he passed a delicious smelling Mexican restaurant, his stomach rumbled loud enough to remind him he had thrown up the only thing he ate that day. He grew angry with Sylar then - for leaving him, for letting him sleep, for going missing. For dragging him into this mess. For kissing him. For smiling. For being honest, and sweet, and unexpectedly cute. 

 

For becoming someone Mohinder was having a hard time hating, no matter to their past. 

 

He kicked at a rock and watched it tumble into the street. He swore under his breath and continued down the street. He was hitting what looked like a downtown instead of housing. He passed under the shadow of a church steeple illuminated by a streetlight. A school and discount store were next, and another street corner. He checked the signs and was surprised to see the street Molly had texted him an address from. He checked the address number on his phone and crossed the street. 

 

He turned again back the other way toward the correct address and should have been surprised when Sylar stood on the corner, grinning. 

 

“Hi,” he said lowly as Mohinder stepped into his space. 

 

Mohinder hit him, two hands shoved hard at his chest. “What the fuck?!” he spat, hitting Sylar again as he caught his balance. Creamy coffee spilled from the little styrofoam cup he held and he made no move to stop it. 

 

“Mohinder, what?”

 

Mohinder pulled back to punch him proper but Sylar held out a hand and paused his movement. Mohinder struggled against the hold keeping his arms out. 

 

Sylar held up a finger, “Okay, one: ow,” he touched his chest. “Two: what the hell?”

 

“ _ You _ ! Where the hell did you go?”

 

With a smirk, Sylar answered, “A guy's gotta have some secrets, Mohinder.”

 

“No!” he shook his shoulders, a fruitless struggle. 

 

Mohinder hadn't noticed people milling around behind Sylar until a man touched his arm. “Is everything alright?”

 

Sylar smiled at the man but did not break eye contact with Mohinder. “Yeah. Yes, it's alright, just a … lover's quarrel. I think this is the dance battle portion,” he smirked. Mohinder sighed hard and stopped shimmying his shoulders. Sylar loosened his grip, allowing Mohinder to put his arms down but keeping a loose presence on them to catch any punches. 

 

“Okay, son. Be smart.” The man looked hard at Mohinder and backed away. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Mohinder asked again through gritted teeth. 

 

“Again, I'd appreciate keeping that particular secret. Any others you're interested in? Want my social? Go through my search history? Wanna see my porn cache? ‘Cause I'd rather arrange you a hands-on demonstration.” His tone betrayed his coy words. He was pissed. 

 

“Why did you leave? What are you doing?”

 

“So single minded,” Sylar shook his head and leaned closer to Mohinder. The sharp smell of his coffee caught his attention.

 

“Whose coffee is that? You drink it black.”

 

“Finally something new.” Sylar drank pointedly from the cup and Mohinder saw his eyes flash. “Why do you care? Do you think I'm  _ stepping out _ on you? You don't want to label us, you don't get that call.”

 

Mohinder breathed deep and stared, waiting.

 

Sylar continued, “This coffee is burnt and disgusting, but alcoholics anonymous and burnt coffee just go hand in hand. I can't suffer a meeting without about a dozen cups of shitty burnt sugared-up coffee. Just so you know.” He visibly deflated and looked away. 

 

His hold on Mohinder released completely. Mohinder grasped what he said. “Alcoholics … but we've been drinking together.”

 

“Something I picked up from your psychic buddy. I'm hoping I work the system better than he did, though.” He talked to the sidewalk, not making eye contact until Mohinder tilted his head back up with gentle fingers. “They don't make a support group for megalomaniacal super powered serial killers, so this is the next best thing.” He fiddled with the cup in his hands.

 

Mohinder was flabbergasted. “You went to an AA meeting.” Sylar nodded. “There's a killer on the loose, following us, and you left me for an AA meeting when you can't even get drunk.”

 

“In a nutshell.”

 

“We should stay together.”

 

“I knew you were fine. I can hear your heartbeat.”

 

Mohinder blustered, “Excuse me?”

 

“I know what you sound like asleep, and terrified, I would have known if something happened to you.”

 

Mohinder threw his hands up by his shoulders. “That's really not alright.”

 

Sylar growled, “I'm sorry! I was just looking out for you.”

 

“No, you were looking out for  _ you _ .”

 

“Fuck you,” Sylar breathed. 

 

“No, fuck you, Sylar, I wake up alone in a damn strange city, you're playing cryptic games with me, and everywhere we go, we leave a corpse behind! I thought …” he trailed off, other emotions catching up to his anger. 

 

Sylar's face was hard as he ground out, “Oh no, you're going to finish that thought, Mohinder. This is a make or break moment. I don't want to use powers on you, but I  _ will _ hear the rest of that sentence. There's only a couple ways I can see it going.”

 

Mohinder swallowed. “I thought you'd died.”

 

Sylar's face fell. “And that's not one of them,” he breathed. 

 

“You asshole, I woke up alone and I thought you'd died. He's following us and you were missing and I was frightened.”

 

“He can't kill me.”

 

“I've been to your funeral once before.”

 

Sylar shivered and Mohinder remembered watching his form go up in flames. 

 

“Even I can knock you out, Sylar. You're not impervious. You're lucky  _ I _ don't have murderous intent.”

 

“Maybe I just like when you knock me around.”

 

“Be serious!”

 

People were still coming out of the building behind Sylar, casting wary eyes at them. 

 

Sylar looked behind himself, following Mohinder’s eyes. “We should go.” He curled a hand on the small of Mohinder’s back and turned him toward the car. 

 

Mohinder threw him off. “Stop it. I'm mad.”

 

“At me?”

 

“I don't know.”

  
  
  
  
  


Sylar asked the desk clerk at the first tiny motel they came across for a room with two beds. After he got the keys, Mohinder asked for a room himself. 

 

Sylar looked crestfallen when he turned around. Mohinder grit his teeth. “Goodnight, Sylar.”

 

He could feel Sylar's eyes on his back as he ducked into his room, down the outside hall from Sylar’s. He drank in the quiet aloneness of the room and tried to calm down, but he was still so upset. He tugged Sylar's coat off his arms and felt cold and fully alone in the room. 

 

A shower didn't help. He kept thinking in circles but every thought ended with the vision of blood sprayed across a windshield. 

 

He thought about making a cup of tea in the coffee pot but his empty stomach clenched. He put shoes and a sweater on and left to find dinner on foot. 

 

A mile down the road he found a taqueria and ordered way too much food for one person. He walked back, stomach flipping as his thoughts flew. 

 

He passed his door and walked up to Sylar's, shifting his weight as he raised his hand to knock and taking it back without following through. He finally did knock and Sylar answered the door, a look of slight shock on his face. His hair was wet and brushed to the side, heavy glasses perched on his nose. 

“I'm sorry I'm an asshole,” Mohinder said quietly, looking at the wall by Sylar's shoulder. “I was out of line.”

 

“You toed it,” Sylar corrected. 

 

“Wherever the line is. I didn't need to get an attitude with you, and I'm sorry.”

 

Sylar hooked a finger under Mohinder’s chin and turned his face up to meet his. Mohinder complied but kept his eyes averted. He fidgeted with the paper bag in his hands. 

 

He rolled his eyes forward and saw Sylar watching him intently. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. 

 

Sylar grinned, almost imperceptibly. “I don't think I've seen you humbled before. I don't think I like it as much as your more … fiery looks.”

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes and Sylar laughed. 

 

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he held up the bag. 

 

“I thought you'd never ask,” he opened the door and swept Mohinder in. 

 

The room had two beds and one uncomfortable looking chair in the corner. The bed closest to the wall had rumpled sheets and a hardback novel laying open and upside down. Mohinder sat on the ground against the made bed and Sylar followed suit against the messy one. 

 

“I didn't know what you liked so I got one of everything.”

 

They shared one of everything in silence, the air around them slowly losing tension. 

 

Sylar leaned back and toed the rest of a chili relleno plate across the floor between them. “Good idea.” He crossed his hands behind his head and looked at Mohinder. “I don't like when you're mad at me. I knew that, but I had forgotten.”

 

“I keep forgetting how to be mad at you,” Mohinder admitted. “I think stress caught up with me.”

 

Sylar nodded. Mohinder got up and threw the leftovers away. Sylar looked distracted when he sat back next to him. 

 

“Why do you go to meetings?”

 

Sylar sighed. “With this power, this urge to know how everything works, to take powers and use them, comes a hunger for more.” He turned to Mohinder. “I'm not being cute or anything, it's literally a burning, all consuming desire to know  _ everything _ , to collect powers and use them to their max potential. It's all I can think about sometimes. It's a need deeper than any I've ever felt.” He ran his hand up and down Mohinder’s thigh. 

 

“When I found my power, I thought the only way to take others’ was to kill them for it. Poking in their brains was the easy way to learn, to see the connections and how they worked. The blood on my hands came to mean a moment's relief from the hunger; I had a new power to master, one more piece of human evolution clicked in place.” He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Mohinder took the glasses and placed them on the nightstand. 

 

“I couldn't say no to the need to  _ know _ , it was so visceral, so integral to how special I had become. I was lost to the need. I would have a moment of clarity and guilt and hope that I could be better, rise above it, but I spiraled back down on my own.”

 

Mohinder remembered picking up his phone late at night and hanging up on Sylar as he begged for help. What could he have prevented had he listened to his pleas? 

 

Sylar sighed. “I scoffed at the meetings when I was stuck in the cop's head, it all seemed useless and pathetic.” With a shrug, he continued, “They don't seem as bad now that I'm useless and pathetic. I can’t talk openly but it's kind of nice to know I'm not alone? Not the only one driven to madness.”

 

“You're not useless.”

 

“But I'm pathetic?”

 

“You have your moments.”

 

“Thanks,” he smiled and knocked his shoulder into Mohinder. 

 

Mohinder looked at the carpet. It could use a cleaning. “How often do you go?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “Depends on how shitty I feel. If I want to really wallow, I go to church.” He clasped his hands in front of his legs and leaned forward. 

 

Mohinder tentatively grasped his hands. “I thought you weren't religious.”

 

“Old habits and that. Always did feel like I'd burn up in sin when I walked in. At least now I have reasons.”

 

They were silent, the only sound Mohinder could hear was the quiet ticking of Sylar's watch near his head. 

 

“You're too hard on yourself,” he said softly, squeezing Sylar's hands. 

 

“Am I?” his voice was bitter. 

 

Mohinder didn't answer, he didn't know the answer. 

 

“Thanks for … I donno. Coming to talk to me? I appreciate it. I can't talk to anyone else.” Sylar looked at the floor as he spoke. His face wrinkled up, “This floor is disgusting.” He stood and brushed off. He offered Mohinder a hand up and pulled him close. “Stay with me tonight? There's the other,” he glanced at the spare bed, “But please don't go.”

 

“I already rented that room.”

 

“I don't care. I'll rent the whole damn place and still want you with me.”

 

Mohinder felt his heart race. He knew Sylar could hear it if he wanted to. “Let me just get clothes.”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I'll give you some.”

 

“You going to persuade me?” Mohinder teased with a smile. 

 

“Never.” He looked appalled. 

 

Mohinder shook his head and leaned close, chest bumping Sylar's and his lips brushed his ear as he purred, “Your power isn't the only thing you could use to persuade me, you know.” He ran the tip of his tongue around the shell of Sylar's ear and held his shoulders as he shivered. 

 

“Fuck, Mohinder.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He tilted his head back as Mohinder kissed down his neck. He slid his hands up Mohinder’s chest and pushed him back. “What're you doing?”

 

Losing his damn mind. 

 

“I think you have something to cash in.” He stroked one finger up the long line of Sylar's cock, pressed hard against his jeans.

 

Sylar's breath stuttered and he leaned into Mohinder’s teasing touch. Mohinder kissed his cheek and whispered, “Please don't stop me this time,” as he unbuttoned Sylar's jeans.

 

Sylar looked like he wanted to say something but nothing would come out. 

 

Mohinder slowly dragged his zipper down. “Yes, or no,” he nodded and shook his head respectively. 

 

Sylar nodded. He nodded and wrapped his hands around Mohinder’s neck, dragging him into a kiss. He kissed him hard with desperate little pants. 

 

Mohinder was losing his damn mind with lust. 

 

He stuck his hand under Sylar's boxers, fingers running through wirey pubes and he gasped when he felt the soft hot skin of Sylar's cock, still trapped under his jeans. 

 

Sylar's mouth opened in a silent scream as he wrapped his hand around his hard length and pulled him free of his underwear. 

 

Mohinder couldn't take his eyes from Sylar’s face as he gave his first stroke. Sylar's eyelids fluttered, unable to keep open and unwilling to look away. His cheeks were flushed and he tilted his head back, mouth opening wider as Mohinder stroked slowly again, hand twisting as he worked the tight  angle between their bodies. 

 

Sylar's hands were gripping so tight on the back of his neck Mohinder knew he would bruise. He whined, arching his hips closer. 

 

“Ooh fuck. Oh fuck, Sylar. Fuck.” Mohinder kissed along his bottom lip as Sylar was unable to do anything but gasp and pant. 

 

Mohinder couldn't believe he finally had Sylar. Watching him take pleasure in his hand was the hottest thing Mohinder had ever seen.  He was falling apart in his hand. He moved his mouth to Sylar's neck, right under his ear, and teased the spot with tongue and teeth and suction. 

 

He brought his free hand to his own fly and quickly opened it. His dick sprung out against his underwear and he pulled it through his fly. He was so hard, so turned on with the feel of Sylar's dick in his other hand, it wouldn't take long to come. He stroked himself hard and varied the pressure and speed he had going on Sylar. 

 

He turned his hand over on Sylar's cock, feeling the weight of it in his palm, and wondered what the weight would be like on his tongue. He moaned against Sylar's neck and bucked into his own hand. 

 

Sylar's hands were scratching at his scalp and setting him on fire. 

 

Mohinder twisted his hand around Sylar, pushing his thumb up and across the glans. Sylar bucked in his hand. 

 

“Yes,” was all he could say as he buried his head in the crook of Mohinder’s neck. His cock twitched and Mohinder moaned, stroking himself harder. 

 

“Look at me. Look at me,” he ordered and Sylar did, his face right next to Mohinder’s. He gasped and shook and Mohinder saw his eyes glaze as he came. 

 

Mohinder felt come hit his chest with force and he gave himself one last hard tug and he came as well. 

 

Sylar watched him in a stupor, hand twitching as he moved it to cup Mohinder’s cheek. 

 

With a smile, Mohinder dragged his fist up Sylar's cock again, squeezing a tight hold and feeling more come ooze over his hand. “Oh, Sylar,” he moaned, breathing shallow pants of air. 

 

Sylar's hands moved from their grip on his neck to wrap around his waist. His voice was rough and cracked, “Baby. Mohinder, I - fuck.” 

 

Mohinder smiled. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “Wow.”

 

“Wow.” Mohinder meant it jokingly but it left his mouth earnestly. “You're so beautiful.”

 

Sylar moaned and mouthed down his neck. Mohinder pulled back and tore off his come stained sweater and leaned chest to chest with Sylar, feeling him breathe hard. 

 

Sylar's eyes widened as Mohinder took off the sweater and his hands moved to unbutton Mohinder’s shirt. 

 

Mohinder stood on his toes and looped his arms around Sylar's neck. He kissed him and felt their softening cocks brush. Sylar's body jerked and he gasped before rolling his hips. 

 

“Oooh,” Mohinder moaned as his sensitized skin burned with the feeling. “Too much, Sylar, too much.”

 

Sylar shook his head and rolled his hips forward hard. “Never enough.” He spread Mohinder’s half unbuttoned shirt on his chest and placed open mouthed kisses along the top of his chest. 

 

Mohinder moaned and took two steps back until he fell against the bed. Sylar followed after, pushing his book to the floor and scooting up to brace Mohinder between his arms and legs. 

 

“You're amazing,” he said as he nuzzled under Mohinder’s chin. He kissed his neck. Mohinder moaned and grabbed his ass, pulling him down. 

 

Sylar fell heavily and relaxed against him. “Mmm. I'll be right back, baby.” Mohinder felt the chill of the air conditioner as Sylar's body heat left him. He watched him walk to the bathroom and stretched. He wiggled out of his pants and threw his shirt off as he got up for his turn. Sylar gawked as he passed and Mohinder felt a rush of lust through his body. 

 

Sylar was in bed when he returned, blankets pulled tight around him. He raised them, motioning for Mohinder to join. He did, kissing Sylar deep as he was enveloped in blankets and arms and Sylar flicked the light off with his mind. 


	31. Chapter 31

Mohinder woke up buried under heavy limbs and a tiny corner of the sheet - Sylar had stolen all the blankets in the night. 

 

“Rude,” he muttered and got no answer. He dug in the blankets and found Sylar's face, half buried in the pillow and dead to the world. Mohinder stretched and tried to steal some covers, to no avail. Sylar did mumble as he grabbed them back, so he was asleep, not dead. 

 

Mohinder watched his breathing slow again as he fell back into deep sleep. His face was relaxed and peaceful and as he thought of the night before and how lost Sylar was to pleasure, he wanted to see him lose it again. 

His hair was soft and lose against the pillow as Mohinder ran his hand through it, gently scratching Sylar's scalp. 

 

“Wake up.” He scooched up closer and ran his hand up the arm pinning him down. “Wake up, Sylar.”

 

He didn't stir so Mohinder kissed his temple, then his cheek, and the corner of his mouth. Working his way under the mountain of blankets, he found skin under the shirt Sylar had worn to bed and he touched up Sylar's ribs light enough it should have ticked. Still no reaction. Mohinder bit his lip and went for broke, stroking Sylar gently over his boxers. 

 

Sylar gave a little hum and snuggled his face deeper under the blankets. 

 

Annoyed at being ignored, Mohinder threw his arm off and went to the bathroom. On the way back, he picked up the book Sylar had thrown to the floor and propped himself up with the spare bed’s pillows to read until Sylar deemed the day worthy enough to wake up to. 

 

It took a while, but eventually Sylar rolled onto his back and gave a long, cat like stretch. Mohinder watched in amusement as limbs poked out of the blankets. Sylar moaned and reached far, hitting Mohinder’s leg. 

 

“Good morning,” Mohinder said. Sylar paused mid stretch and peered around the blankets at him. “You sleep like a dead thing.”

 

“Really?”

 

Mohinder nodded. He saw questions on Sylar's face but decided to let him stew for a while. He was still annoyed. 

 

“I didn't know.”

 

Mohinder turned back to the book in his hand. “This is terrible,” he held it up, skirting around anything Sylar would want to talk about. 

 

“It is, but I keep reading to see how much worse the writing can get.” He reached to touch Mohinder’s knee under the sheet. He pulled back his hand. “Mohinder,” he started. 

 

“I tried to wake you.”

 

“You should have tried harder,” he pouted.

 

Mohinder smirked, “Any harder and I would have been blowing you.”

 

Sylar gasped and whispered his name again. 

“But I've never done it before, I kind of wanted a captive audience for my debut,” he winked. Sylar's hand wrapped around his knee. “Anyway, the sleeping beauty routine really isn't my thing.” He traced the side of Sylar's face with his thumb, stubble catching on his skin. “Your sleeping beauty looks, though …”

 

“I can show you what to do,” Sylar said quietly. “I can, I'd love to, please.” He rolled onto his belly and pushed himself up. “Mohinder,” he purred, kneeling next to him. 

 

“Mmm. Nice offer, but the mood has passed.”

 

“Bullshit.” He sounded like he was trying to convince one of them; Mohinder didn't know whom. 

 

Mohinder hummed. Sylar looked hurt so he decided to be honest. “I also wanted to make sure it was alright. I don't want to -”

 

“Yes,” Sylar interrupted. “Yes, whatever you want to do to me, whatever you … want me to do. The answer is yes.”

 

His words made Mohinder dizzy. He looked at Sylar, his face sincere as he kneeled by him in the bed.

 

Sylar pulled a face as he thought, “Actually, just give me a warning if you want to pull any medical shit on me. I mean, the spinal tap sucked while you did it, but after - hmm, kinda a little hot in retrospect.” He flushed high on his cheeks but didn't look away. 

 

Mohinder raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

 

Sylar shrugged. “I like you in a position of power. I like when you overtake me, put me at your mercy.”

 

“Really.” His head swam with the insinuation.

“Anything I want, huh?”

 

Sylar nodded and bit his lip, eyes half closed. Mohinder could see his cock heavy in his boxers. 

 

“Take off your shirt.”

 

Sylar sucked in a hard breath and grabbed the hem to do so, pausing once. He tore the tee over his head. The scar from Nakomura’s sword was old and healed, but prominent on his pale skin. 

 

Mohinder hissed in sympathy and saw Sylar's face darken. He had thoughts of touching the mark but changed his mind, running his hand up the other side of Sylar's ribs instead. 

 

Sylar breathed in hard and sighed. 

 

He stretched, a long streak of pale lighting in the morning sun. 

 

“Come kiss me,” Mohinder ordered as his head swam. 

 

Sylar's eyes flashed and he moved fast, straddling Mohinder’s crossed legs and tucking his feet under his knees. He pushed Mohinder’s head back between his hands and knelt over him as he pressed their mouths together. Mohinder moaned and grabbed his waist, pulling him close. He was still sleep-warm.

 

“I knew you were pulling my leg,” Sylar mumbled against his lips. 

 

“At least I'm pulling something,” Mohinder teased as he stroked his hands up Sylar's chest. “I seem to remember someone letting me do all the work last night,” he said between nipping kisses. He ran his hand through the hair in the center of Sylar's chest and shivered. 

 

“Seems like I owe you, then.”

 

“It's only fair,” Mohinder nodded. He thumbed over Sylar's nipples, rubbing them in hard little circles as he watched him gasp and start to fall apart. “Fuck.”

 

“God, I love hearing you swear.” Sylar tilted his hips forward and rubbed his clothed cock against Mohinder’s stomach as they kissed. “Maybe someday I'll actually get you naked,” he said against Mohinder’s lips.

 

“Do it.” He tugged at his boxers as much as he could with Sylar weighing him down. 

 

Sylar leaned back to watch, hands hooked behind Mohinder’s neck. The fresh bruises there were a dull ache that sent lust through his veins. 

 

Sylar looked up to Mohinder’s eyes and brought his hands up between them, slashing them each down. 

 

Mohinder yelped as he felt an electric graze of fine pressure over his cock as Sylar cut his underwear off. The scraps fell to the bed and he shook with need. “Fuck!” He grabbed Sylar's face and pulled him down to a hard kiss, assaulting his mouth with tongue and teeth. Sylar grinned under the attack and Mohinder felt himself leave the bed, floating under Sylar's kneeling body as he threw the wrecked fabric away. 

 

He leaned his head back and bucked up, high on touch and weightlessness. Sylar pushed his chest and he hit the headboard as he sunk back to the bed. “Oh yes, Sylar, please.”

 

He rolled his head forward and saw Sylar just looking at him, mouth ajar. He smirked and undulated his body under him, rolling his shoulders and arching his back until he pressed his cock up right against Sylar's ass. The soft fabric of his boxers was titillating. 

 

Sylar threw the pillows across the room with telekenetic force and pressed Mohinder into the mattress with both hands as they ground against each other.

 

“Get these off,” Mohinder ordered, tearing at Sylar's tight boxers. “Now.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he said with a cocky grin. He unwound their legs and yanked his underwear off, his usual grace cast aside for speed. 

 

Mohinder looked down his body, pale and lithe, dark hair leading to a perfectly pink cock. “Fuck, Sylar, yes.”

 

Sylar kneeled upright, taking his hand from Mohinder’s chest. Mohinder sat up to kiss him but barely grazed his lips before Sylar threw him back down to the bed. He moaned and felt precome drip onto his belly. 

 

Sylar was breathing so fast he could almost be hyperventilating. Mohinder stroked down his arm and grabbed his hand, forcing it back to his chest, fingers bumping over his nipple and down through the drops of precome, over his pubes and onto his cock. 

 

“Please. Please, please,” was all Mohinder could get out as Sylar wrapped his hand around him. He held it at an angle so almost his whole cock was surrounded by Sylar's large hand. “Please,” he whined again as he thrust into Sylar's grip. 

 

“Oh fuck, Mohinder.” He loosened his grip and moved up the bed, pushing his own hard cock into his hand as well. His flesh burned against Mohinder’s. He pushed up and Mohinder moved down. Sylar rested his hand on Mohinder’s chest again and leaned to kiss him. 

 

Mohinder bit his lip and watched him writhe. His hand gripped tighter. “Yes,” Mohinder encouraged, rolling his hips faster and gasping as Sylar's cock pulsed against his. 

 

They didn't kiss, more pressed lips and cheeks together in open mouthed gasps as Sylar came over him, oozing over their cocks and his hand as he gripped tight. Mohinder watched him gasp in time with his orgasm’s pulses and he thrust into Sylar's wet hand, coming hard on his own stomach. 

 

Sylar collapsed on him and Mohinder held him close. His legs were still spread in a butterfly stretch getting more painful as Sylar lay on him, but the afterglow took precedence. 

 

He felt Sylar nip at his collar bone and he traced his hand down his spine. He kissed his hairline and down the side of his face. 

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Ten eighteen,” Sylar answered, kissing Mohinder’s neck. 

 

Mohinder turned to give him better access. “We should get up.”

 

Sylar moaned noncommittally and bit a path down where his mouth had just been. 

 

Mohinder couldn't hold back pleased noises and he bucked up against Sylar. He felt how sticky they were though. “The shower is big enough for two,” he stated simply. 

 

“Oh yes,” Sylar breathed as he pushed himself up with one hand. He held the other to the side, covered in their mingled come, and Mohinder wanted to whine. He focused on just breathing, but failed even that when Sylar kneeled over him with a heavy look in his eyes. He smiled slowly and offered Mohinder his clean hand to help him off the bed. 

 

Mohinder groaned as his stiff legs moved but they felt better with blood flow. Sylar walked backwards, pulling him to the shower and pressed him against the cool tile wall as the water poared over them. He couldn't keep his mouth from Mohinder’s throat.

 

Mohinder wrapped his calf around Sylar's, holding him close. His hands traveled up and down his back, landing purchase under his ass. 

 

Sylar's hands wrapped around his ribcage and Mohinder lost it. He hooked his knee around Sylar's thigh and ground against him hard. He pulled Sylar's face to his shoulder and felt teeth graze over the joint. 

 

“I want you,” he mumbled in Sylar's ear. 

 

“Want you too, baby.” Sylar pumped his hips, rubbing his half hard cock against Mohinder’s, rolling smoothly over his balls.”Fuck, baby, I can't -” His movements slowed and his mouth moved to envelop Mohinder’s own, kissing him slow and deep. Mohinder could feel it to his toes. “You're too much,” he whispered, barely audible over the shower. 

 

Mohinder looked at his coy half grin and the warm depths of his eyes and thought that too much was barely the tip of the iceberg. 


	32. Chapter 32

They were late for checkout and late getting back on the road, but already halfway to Phoenix so neither were worried. Mohinder drove the first leg. 

 

As he drove, he could feel Sylar's eyes steal glances at him. He kept grazing his hand over his own on the gearshift, and squeezing his leg, running fingers down his arm and playing with his hair around the head rest. When Mohinder caught his eyes, Sylar had a look on his face like he was expecting to get kicked out of the car and told to go to hell. 

 

They stopped at a vista point to stretch and switch drivers some time after they had crossed into New Mexico. Mohinder walked stiffly around the back of the car and saw Sylar walking across the parking lot. He stopped at the edge of the lot and leaned on the railing where the land took a dip into a canyon. He turned and watched Mohinder follow. 

 

Mohinder stretched as he walked, feeling the tee shirt he had borrowed from Sylar rise up and he saw Sylar's eyes fall to his exposed skin. He stretched a little longer than necessary. 

 

Stepping into Sylar's bubble, he saw he still had the wary look on his face. 

 

“Mohinder,” he started slowly. 

 

Mohinder saw no reason to talk so he curled his fingers around Sylar's face and dragged him down for a kiss. Sylar moaned and grabbed him by the waist, holding him tight. 

 

Mohinder had never kissed anyone taller than him before and found the warring emotions of it thrilling. He felt overpowered and vulnerable, tilting his head back and exposing his neck, but the gentle way Sylar was running his hands through his hair as he bent to meet him and the hungry noises he made when they touched gave him such a sense of power. 

 

He ran his hands down Sylar's back and to his thighs, lifting him to sit on the railing. 

 

Sylar's hands flew to catch himself and he gasped under Mohinder’s mouth. Mohinder grinned and stood on his toes, pulling Sylar over him so they wouldn't part. Sylar hooked his feet in the rails and his groping began anew. 

 

His hands worked under Mohinder’s shirt, toying with the waistband of his slacks. “Mmm. You smell like me.”

 

“Your shirt.”

 

“Mine,” he purred. 

 

Mohinder didn't think he was talking about the shirt. His hands wound in Sylar's tee, tugging him closer. 

 

“Excuse me,” a rude voice sounded behind Mohinder, making him jump and bump Sylar's nose. 

 

“Ow,” Sylar rubbed the bridge of his nose. Mohinder loosened one hand to thumb his cheek in apology. Sylar smiled and kissed him again. 

 

“Excuse me!”

 

Sylar growled and looked up. Mohinder watched him give the man behind him a look of distaste. “You're excused.” He waved his hand dismissively. He turned back to Mohinder and kissed him deep, dragging his tongue over the roof of his mouth and sending shivers down his spine. 

 

The man did not leave. “My  _ family _ and I are trying to enjoy the sights and  _ you _ are disturbing us.”

 

Sylar looked up again and sneered. His eyes were hard. “And  _ I _ am enjoying the sight, and taste, and smell,” he smiled, “And you are disturbing  _ me _ .” Mohinder turned in his arms and watched the middle aged tourist bluster. “That is unwise; I suggest you leave.”

 

“I don't know why you people seem to think …” he muttered as he walked away. He was going toward his family, who were ignoring the two of them in the corner of the parking lot and seemingly completely unbothered. As he stormed away, Sylar sent a small bolt of lightning at him, nipping him on the heel. The man turned but Sylar had grabbed Mohinder’s face again and was kissing with renewed vigor. 

 

Mohinder saw him wink at the man and grinned against his lips. He closed his eyes as Sylar bit his lip and pulled off.

 

“Mmm. Did you make him leave?” He heard car tires squealing behind them. 

 

He shook his head. “It's just a perk of being a nasty looking sonofabitch,” Sylar smirked. “No one fucks with me.” He tilted his head in thought. “Except you.”

 

“Someone had to put you in your place.” He nuzzled under Sylar's chin and pressed hard against his chest. 

 

“Whoa!” Sylar grabbed the railing as he was leaned back. 

 

Mohinder grinned and squeezed his thighs. “I won't let you fall. You'd survive, anyway.”

 

“Yeah, but it would hurt like fuck,” he said, voice tight as Mohinder continued to push him back. “Mohinder …” he warned as his arms stretched further to hold him. 

 

Mohinder held him down with one hand and kept the other around his thigh, just in case. He bent over and breathed against the skin poking out from between his shirt and pants. He watched his muscles twitch and heard Sylar exhale hard. 

 

He placed a gentle kiss on the soft skin, chin brushing Sylar's cock. 

 

“Oh, Mohinder,” Sylar said as he shifted his hips up. Mohinder looked up and saw him leaning all the way back, head upside down, hands white knuckled around the railing. 

 

Mohinder trailed his tongue along his waist, nipping at his hip bone. He saw that Sylar was hard in his pants and moved to gently hold his cock sideways between his teeth, putting pressure into the hold incrementally as Sylar moaned and tried not to buck. He felt the heat of him even through his jeans, and smelled the heavy scent of arousal. He rested his tongue over his clothed cock and hummed in pleasure. 

 

“Oh baby, oh god, baby please, more or stop! More or stop.” His fingers slipped until just the tips were wrapped around the metal. He shivered. “Stop  _ teasing _ me.”

 

A truck pulled into the lot and idled before the engine was cut. Mohinder could hear people jumping out. Sylar pushed at his shoulder telekinetically. “Baby, just … hold on. Hold on, honey, not now.”

 

Mohinder groaned displeasure and Sylar lifted his head to see him with his mouth full. “Fuck.”

 

Mohinder slid his hand from Sylar’s chest and held it out to him, finally tearing himself from his arousal as he pulled him to sit. 

 

Sylar grabbed his cheeks. Mohinder could feel he was blushing. “You …” was all Sylar could say as he shook his head. Mohinder pulled him into a needy kiss, hand wrapping around the back of his head to keep him in place. 

 

Sylar pulled back and Mohinder let him. “We should go,” he whispered, eyes on Mohinder’s reddened lips. “Or …”

 

“Or what, Sylar?” he enunciated carefully, watching Sylar's eyes flash at his name. 

 

He looked into Mohinder’s eyes. “Or I'm going to take you right here.”

 

Mohinder’s legs felt weak. “Yes,” he moaned. 

“Mohinder!” Sylar moved him back. “You're not helping.”

 

“What do you  _ want _ from me?”

 

“I dont want anything from you, baby.”

 

“What do you want with me?”

 

“I just want what you're willing to share.” He looked almost sad as he answered. 

 

“Well, that's just a lot.”

  
  
  
  
  


The remaining drive to Phoenix was fraught with tension. Mohinder tried to read the shitty book he started that morning but it truly was terrible. And the burnt sienna scenery wasn't keeping his attention. He played DJ as Sylar drove but apparently Sylar was feeling as distracted as him - he didn't sing, he didn't strike up conversation. 

 

Mohinder was thinking about TV  commercials about ‘an erection that lasts for more than four hours,’ and watching the sun set. 

 

He tried not to think about Sylar. But he could hear him breathe, smell his soap, and with each of his own inhales, the borrowed shirt across his chest would cling tight. He tried not to think of his mouth, hot and wet against his own, and the taste of his tongue. He tried not to think of his body, long limbs and long eyelashes and large hands and expressive eyes. He tried not to imagine what his cock would feel like in his mouth without the denim between them. 

 

He failed not thinking any of these thoughts and shivered. 

 

“Are you cold?”

 

Mohinder answered without thinking or really listening. “Yes.”

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are you listening to me?”

 

“Mmhmm. I agree.”

 

“I think I'll fuck you on the moon.”

 

“Yeah, good.” He blinked. “Wait, what?”

 

Sylar's crooked grin was contagious and he felt his own face crack. “You're insane,” Mohinder laughed. 

 

“And you're a space cadet.” He rubbed Mohinder’s thigh, leaving his hand resting high in his lap. “Are you hungry, though? We're coming up on civilization.”

 

Mohinder looked out the window. “Could have fooled me.” Besides the other cars on the freeway, all he could see was the steep embankment of dirt surrounding them. “I am though. I am hungry.”

 

“Excellent.” His stomach rumbled and Mohinder laughed at him again. Sylar squeezed his thigh and Mohinder succeeded in not moaning out loud as he was positioned so close to his hours-long erection. 

 

Sylar took an exit and told Mohinder to watch his side of the road for food and he would do the same. 

 

Mohinder leaned his chin on his arms and watched houses and shopping centers go by. 

“Ah hah! Got it,” Sylar announced. He turned into a parking lot and got out while Mohinder was stretching. He walked around the car and opened Mohinder’s door for him to step out. 

 

“What's this about?” Sylar didn't step back so Mohinder snaked up against him to stand. Sylar wrapped his arm around his back and kissed his cheek. He didn't answer, just smiled down at him. He led Mohinder to an Indian restaurant in the corner of the shopping center. 

 

“Really?” Mohinder was sort of thrilled. 

 

“I've had a hankering for Indian for quite some time now, hope you don't mind.” He winked. 

 

“I don't quite know how to take that.” Sylar squeezed him close before he let go to open the door. 

 

Sylar grabbed a local weekly newspaper stacked at the door as he followed Mohinder and the host to their table. 

 

Mohinder ordered family style and Sylar grinned at him. He looked around the restaurant. “This is nice.”

 

“Change of pace.” Sylar fiddled with his glass of water. “Getting tired of fast food burritos.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you miss New York?”

 

Mohinder shrugged a shoulder. “Not particularly. It's not like I had anything there.”

 

“Yeah.” He couldn't tell if Sylar sounded wistful or sad. “I've been moving for so long I really just miss having a home. I've never had a house outside New York, but after seeing so much of the country, I've realized location isn't what makes a house a home.”

 

Mohinder watched his eyes and thought of his talk with Gretchen. His throat felt tight and he drank his water. 

 

Sylar looked away and opened the newspaper in front of him. “Well, let's see what this part of the country has to offer.” He turned to the events calender and the server brought their drinks.

 

Mohinder watched Sylar drink his beer from the bottle and wrapped his hands around his mug of chai. Sylar's hand toyed with the bottle, spinning it slowly on its end. Mohinder stood and brought his mug to the empty chair next to Sylar. “This way I can see,” he explained. He leaned against Sylar's arm to read the day's events. 

 

He sipped his tea and hummed. When he looked up, Sylar was watching him. “What?” He drank more tea and offered it. “Would you like some?”

 

Sylar declined with a smile. “Honestly, it's not my favorite to drink, but thank you.” He raised his hand and bit the corner of his lip. “But can I just …” he tilted Mohinder’s head up under his chin and dragged him forward, catching his lips. They kissed languidy, Sylar's tongue sweeping the spiced taste from his mouth. He backed off, short of breath. “Huh. Better than I thought.” Mohinder kissed him again and Sylar moaned, hand resting back on his thigh. 

 

Sylar pushed him off, Mohinder’s lips trailing a sigh. “Business first, baby,” he said. Mohinder tried not to pout.

 

They turned back to the paper, but not before Mohinder noticed Sylar's bottle still spinning, without any manual help. 

 

“Oops,” Sylar stopped it. “You're making me lose control.”

 

“Then keep a better lid on your powers, dear,” he teased. Sylar looked at him and beamed. 

 

Mohinder realized the pet name had slipped through his lips and he blushed. Sylar ran his hand over his cheek. 

 

“What's the plan tonight?” Mohinder asked, changing the subject back.  

 

Sylar turned from him slowly and shook out the paper. “There's the usual haunts - clubs, concerts, art shows.”

 

“Maybe somewhere with security?”

 

“What good will that be?” Sylar asked. “Not like we could tell them what to look for. ‘Hey, someone's following us and murdering people wherever we go, can you be on the look out for someone stealing brains?’”

 

“True.”

 

“We'd be arrested under suspicion.”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

“You're too pretty to go to jail.”

 

Mohinder smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

 

“Still, I guess blind security is still security. Wanna hit a show tonight?”

 

Mohinder looked at him. “I don't want to go anywhere tonight.” He swirled his tea, watching the milk cloud it. “If it  _ is _ our whereabouts pushing his selection, I don't want to make that choice.”

 

Sylar grabbed his hand. “Let's choose where to stop this then. Let's choose where to save someone.”

 

“When did you get so optimistic?”

 

With a shrug, he answered, “It comes and goes.”

 

Their food was delivered and Sylar's eyes lit up. “What did you do, order the menu?”

 

“Just a few things.”

 

The food was delicious and the company was pleasant; Mohinder didn't want to leave. 

 

He had had numerous relationships with women, both long- and short term, but he had never felt so rawly lusted after as when Sylar's eyes dragged over him. He had gotten used to being at the center of his attention years prior, but everything had changed when Sylar walked into the shop in New York. 

 

The way Sylar looked at him singed his nerves raw. The overstimulated way every brush of hand and press of lips turned to pure pleasure made Mohinder high with the attention. 

 

“Sylar,” he said quietly. Sylar looked up and smiled. Mohinder’s head spun and he slid his hand up Sylar's leg, resting at the crease where thigh and hip met. 

 

“Yeah?” Sylar prodded. Mohinder could feel his thigh twitch under his hand. 

 

“Nothing.” Just wanted to see him wrapped around his finger. “So you're thinking a concert tonight? Which one?”

 

“You pick.” Mohinder pointed to one on the list, not looking. “That way if it's terrible, it's your own fault,” Sylar smiled and looked up the venue on his phone. 

 

“Thanks,” Mohinder said sarcastically. He finished his tea. 

 

“There's a hotel two blocks from the club, we're almost there. You ready?” Sylar kissed his cheek as Mohinder put the empty mug down, and worked his way over to his mouth. Mohinder squeezed his thigh as Sylar's tongue grazed over his lips. “Let's go.”


	33. Chapter 33

Sylar yelled through the bathroom door that he was going to walk to the show and for Mohinder to meet him there. 

 

“What? I'm almost done, wait!” Mohinder splashed water on his face, a last ditch effort to calm himself. When he poked his head out the door, Sylar had already left. “Damnit.”

 

He shook his head and finished cleaning up. The Arizona air was making him feel sticky.

 

He picked at his shirt, feeling slightly sweaty and damp at the small of his back. He should change, but it smelled like Sylar and he decided to keep it. He brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair before calling it good, cranking the air conditioner up before he left the room. 

 

They had driven past the venue as they went to the hotel so he knew it was just a quick walk down the street. The night was early and still hot, unexpected after days of wearing coats and sweaters as they drove. Mohinder was used to a more mild March. 

 

At least the hot breezeless air was helping clear his head. The time alone was allowing him to breathe easier, no tension in the air, no electric thrill of lust distracting him. 

 

He watched people as he passed, watching families and couples interacting, strangers dancing around each other, people distancing themselves with headphones and electronics. It was comfortable to be one of the crowd. 

 

He passed more people on the street as he got closer to the club. He could hear the music, loud and pervasive. He stood in line and showed his fake ID to get in, wondering not for the first time what trouble he would have gotten in to if he had had Molly's friends’ forgery skills at his disposal when he was younger. 

 

The concert was deafening inside. Mohinder stayed to the outskirts of the crowd, trying to find some peace. Sylar must have wandered off to scout out the corners where an ambush could happen, so he followed suit.

 

He looked around, both for anything out of place and for Sylar. The skin on the back of his neck crawled and he knew he was being watched. 

 

Mohinder turned around, expecting to meet dark lusty eyes, but Sylar wasn't there. He hummed and continued moving. 

He thought about getting a drink at the bar but decided to keep his wits. He hadn't drank as often as he had in the last week in a long time and he was remembering how fast and hard alcohol affected him. 

 

Mohinder felt eyes on him again and his skin crawled in a pleasant shiver down his back. 

 

Any good the walk in the fresh air did was quickly being undone with Sylar's roving eyes. Mohinder was half hard and very interested in whatever those eyes promised. 

 

He was losing focus. He wanted to at least find Sylar, everything else could come later. 

 

The incessant beat of the music had sped Mohinder’s heartbeat to match it's pace and he felt lightheaded. He moved around to the front corner of the club to the bathroom, right next to the stage. He wouldn't find quiet there, but he could splash water on his face. It was so hot.

 

As he reached for the door, it pulled back and Sylar was standing in the doorway. Mohinder’s throat went dry as the man grinned. He had changed into all black - tight tee shirt, jeans, big black boots. He looked right at home in the club with his hair slicked back and the slightly predatory smirk on his face. 

 

He looked so damn good. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Mohinder didn't answer, he just shoved Sylar back into the bathroom and against a sink. Sylar’s eyes darted across his face and landed on his mouth. That was all Mohinder needed to surge forward, hands on Sylar’s neck and lips sliding against his. 

 

Sylar brought his hands to Mohinder’s waist, pulling him against him. Mohinder moaned at the contact, feeling himself harden as he ground against Sylar's leg. Sylar gasped and he knew he could feel it too. Mohinder tried to move Sylar so their hips lined up better, but Sylar was tall enough his ass was in the sink and it wasn't happening. 

 

Mohinder grabbed the neck of Sylar’s shirt and threw him against the wall by the towel dispenser. The wind was knocked from Sylar's lungs and he struggled to regain his breath as Mohinder tilted his head back and bit down his neck. Sylar canted his hips forward and he was as hard as Mohinder. 

 

Mohinder nosed his clavicle and listened to Sylar moan over the music pounding around them. He grabbed his hips tight and held him close as he thrust his own hips in a circle. Sylar grabbed two handfuls of his hair and forced their mouths together again in a clash of a kiss. 

 

The bathroom door opened and Sylar slammed it shut telekinetically. His hands grabbed the hem of Mohinder’s shirt and pulled it up to his armpits. His hands skated down his smooth chest, his breath fast and shallow. Mohinder’s hands fumbled with Sylar’s jeans. 

 

“Wait,” Sylar breathed. 

 

“No. Fuck me,” Mohinder kissed him, tongue pushing in to twist with Sylar's. “Fuck me, Sylar, I've waited long enough.”

 

Sylar groaned and Mohinder could feel his cock twitch against his own. He thrust harder and dug his fingers into Sylar's arms. 

 

Sylar twisted away and grabbed Mohinder’s face. He saw his finger prints fade from Sylar's arms in an instant. He shook as he thought about making Sylar bleed just to watch him heal. He pushed the thought away. 

 

Sylar struggled to hold Mohinder still. “Hey. I can't. Not right now, okay?”

 

“Fuck me Sylar, I need you so bad.”

 

“I don't have lube.” The door opened again and Sylar slammed it. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said simply. 

 

“Please, just -”

 

Sylar shoved him backwards and into a stall. The door slammed behind him and his hands and telekinesis made quick work of the buttons on Mohinder’s jeans. His breathing quickened as he slid them down Mohinder’s thighs, thumbs hooked in his underwear to leave him bare. 

 

Jeans at his knees, cock free and shirt rucked up, Mohinder already felt wrecked. Sylar kissed him deep and kept their eyes locked as he sunk to his knees. 

 

Sylar's eye's bounced from the dick in front of him to Mohinder’s awed face and back before he traced delicate fingers over Mohinder’s foreskin. 

 

Mohinder wanted to scream but couldn't make a sound. 

 

Sylar licked his lips and wrapped his mouth around Mohinder’s cock and Mohinder remembered  _ exactly _ how to make noise as Sylar sucked him in. He moaned loud, echoing in the empty room. Sylar groaned as he slid his throat slowly up around Mohinder’s cock. His mouth was stretched wide as he nosed Mohinder’s pubes. 

 

Sylar pressed a hand to Mohinder’s stomach and Mohinder had to look away. His pale skin looked electric against his own darker shade. The vision was dizzying. 

 

Sylar hummed and pressed his hand harder into Mohinder’s belly. It felt like he was touching him from the inside. Mohinder gasped with each stroke of Sylar's mouth, high with desperation.

 

He felt teeth graze the vein on the underside of his cock, so soft the promise of pain, and he wailed, barely drowned out by guitars and drumbeats. Sylar's hands stroked him thighs to ass.

 

Mohinder felt precum drip on Sylar's tongue as he reluctantly pulled back. His hand was quick to replace his mouth as he stood. Mohinder grabbed his face and kissed him without hesitation. He tasted himself on Sylar's tongue and had to hold back from coming right then. His hands roamed up to grip Sylar's hair, keeping him close. 

 

The bathroom door opened again and this time neither cared. Sylar continued to stroke him. He flicked his wrist and twisted his hand; Mohinder’s eyes crossed under their lids. He breathed hard, gasping against Sylar's mouth. “Please,” he whispered. 

 

Mohinder couldn't figure out where to put his hands so he shoved one down the back of Sylar's tight pants, kneading his ass, and the other slammed into the tile lining the stall wall. A piece cracked as he pulled his face back, gasping shallow breaths as he came in Sylar's waiting hand. 

 

Sylar was panting with him, watching his face as he released. Mohinder sighed and Sylar groaned. “Turn around,” he ordered. On shaky legs, Mohinder obeyed. He rested his hands on the wall and pressed back into Sylar. 

 

“Oh god, baby,” Sylar traced his clean hand down Mohinder’s round cheeks, pulling one aside and tracing a finger over his hole. 

 

“Yes, yes,” Mohinder pleaded. 

 

Telekinetically pushing his own jeans down, Sylar spread Mohinder’s cum on his straining cock. He moaned at how wet and warm it was. 

 

“Sylar,” Mohinder groaned, looking back and watching him. Sylar's face broke in a small smile. 

 

“Ready?”

 

“Yes, gods yes, please!”

 

Sylar pressed down on Mohinder’s lower back and pulled his hips up. Mohinder raised onto tiptoes and leaned heavily onto the wall over the toilet. Sylar's hands snaked between his thighs and spread them, sliding his aching cock between Mohinder’s legs, right under his perineum, nudging at his balls. He hooked his fingers in Mohinder’s belt loops and pulled his jeans back up most of his thighs, pulling them together tight. He pulled his hips back and rocked forward, wet dick sliding between Mohinder’s legs. 

 

“Oh!” Mohinder howled, feeling Sylar rock again as he wrapped his hands around his waist. He pulled Mohinder back as he rolled his hips. They both moaned; Mohinder pried a tile from the wall and it shattered on the floor. Sylar pounded hard against him and when Mohinder looked down, he could see the tip of his pink cockhead sticking out from between his legs. His balls pulled up and he came again, dry, quivering against Sylar. 

 

Sylar's breath caught as he felt Mohinder’s thighs quake around him and he came hard, shooting the wall and toilet and dribbling down Mohinder’s thighs. 

 

He gasped and rested his head between Mohinder’s shoulder blades. His hands stroked all of Mohinder he could reach, thighs, face, arms and soft cock. 

 

They caught their breath and Mohinder stood upright, shifting his hips so Sylar slipped out from between his legs. Sylar shook and trailed his hand down his back softly. Mohinder’s shirt fell back in place as he trembled. 

 

Mohinder stretched slowly and reached behind his head, catching the back of Sylar's neck and pulling him flush behind him. Sylar's arms wrapped around his waist and fisted in his shirt. He tucked his face in Mohinder’s neck, kissing him gently. 

 

“Sylar,” Mohinder sighed, grinning as he felt him shiver. 

 

“Fuck, baby.” His hands wrapped around Mohinder’s hips, tugging him close. “That what you wanted?”

 

Mohinder hummed approval, turning his head to graze Sylar's lips with his own. They kissed in lazy drags of lips, coming down. Mohinder turned around to kiss Sylar better and looked in his eyes. “Yeah,” he answered. 

Sylar's eyes slid down his body and he panted as Mohinder broke away to clean his legs. “Fuck, Mohinder.”

 

“What?” he grinned. 

 

Sylar leaned close and whispered in his ear, “You look so good.” His hand trailed up his inner thigh. “So good with my come on you.”

 

Mohinder shivered and clung to his shoulder, reeling at the unexpected admission. He bit Sylar's shoulder through his tee shirt before he said anything stupid. 

 

Sylar took the wad of toilet paper from him and took over cleaning duty, kissing Mohinder’s face as he tucked him back in his pants.

 

Mohinder kissed his ear and bit the lobe gently before he whispered, “Next time, you'll have to fuck me for real.”

 

Sylar grabbed his wrists as Mohinder reached for his face and backed him against the stall. He slammed him against it, the sound reverberating through the bathroom. He looked hard at Mohinder and his expression was indecipherable. 

 

Mohinder braced his wrists where Sylar was holding them against the wall and pulled himself up off his feet smoothly and wrapped his legs around Sylar's waist. He leaned over Sylar and kissed him, taking a thrill out of being in the taller position. Sylar still held his arms to the wall at his sides. 

 

Sylar looked up at him and moaned loud and long as Mohinder slid down to meet him hip to hip. Mohinder leaned his head back on the wall and squared his shoulders as he tilted his hips so he could grind his ass against Sylar. 

 

His cock was still out, soft and sensitive, and Mohinder could feel the heat of it through his jeans. He used Sylar's tight grip on him for balance and shifted his hips in a pantomime of proper fucking, a promise for another time. 

 

“Mohinder. Oh god.” Sylar jerked his hips forward, slamming Mohinder into the stall. 

 

Mohinder gasped. “Again.”

 

Sylar thrust against him again and again, hitting him against the wall each time. 

 

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Sylar, I want you.”

 

Sylar growled his name again and his hips stuttered. “Baby, I can't. I can't. God, I want you.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Sylar did, his hips slowing to just a gentle rocking push. Mohinder tightened his legs around him and rocked counter to Sylar's thrusts; they would break apart for a moment then Mohinder’s ass would rub against Sylar and they both would moan. 

 

“I have to …” Sylar breathed, “I have to put you down. Too much.”

 

Mohinder nodded. Even through his jeans, he was so sensitive. Sylar must be on the verge of pain. He unwound his legs and lowered his arms, feeling his muscles burn. 

 

“God, you're so sexy,” Sylar bit his neck and Mohinder wailed. “Oh, so much.”

 

Mohinder rested against the wall as he watched Sylar right his clothes. He winced when he pulled his pants up. Mohinder fixed his hair where he had pulled it out of place, Sylar grinning under his fussing. 

 

With a grin, Mohinder half-stumbled out of the stall, legs weak and trembling. Sylar followed him, bent to kiss the back of his neck. 

 

There was one man at the sinks, watching them in the mirror. Mohinder made eye contact, trying to look tough, but that was proving hard with Sylar sucking a bruise under his ear. He tilted his head so he could have better access and grabbed Sylar's hands over his hips, leading him to the sink. 

 

The man continued to watch them as Mohinder washed his hands, dragging Sylar's under the hot water after. He watched as the man turned to them and looked them over. He grinned - the man was looking  _ Sylar _ over. 

 

Not that Mohinder could blame him. 

 

Feeling like his claim was staked, what with Sylar's mauling hands all over him, he turned his attention back to the sink. Movement in the mirror caught his attention. He could see the stranger in his peripheral, drying his hands at the sink, but the mirror showed him standing behind Sylar, hands floating over his shoulders and leaning in to smell his neck. 

 

Mohinder hummed. Sylar looked up and saw what had distracted Mohinder. “Hmm. That's a neat power,” he rumbled. Mohinder watched him but after the acknowledgment, he turned back to Mohinder, nuzzling in his hair. 

 

The man left the bathroom and they were alone again. Mohinder turned in Sylar's arms and draped his hands over his shoulders as he dragged him down for a kiss. 

 

They parted and Sylar's face held a look of awe. 

 

“What?”

 

“I can't believe we did that. I can't believe you let me.”

 

Mohinder backed across the room, gripping Sylar's shirt in one fist. “Take me back home and I'll slow you what else you can't believe.”

 

“Ohh.”

 

Mohinder smiled and opened the door, jumping backward when something fell in. “Oh! Are you alright?” he asked and bent to the fallen man on the ground. 

 

It was the man who had just left the bathroom. His face was covered in blood. His scalp was on the floor outside the restroom. 

 

And his skull was empty. 


	34. Chapter 34

Sylar stopped behind him and jumped into action with hardly a pause. “He's here, he's fucking here, Mohinder, call 911.”

 

Mohinder couldn't move, he just stared at the corpse as it bled. The blood pooled around his feet. 

 

“Mohinder!” Sylar shook him. “Now, baby!”

 

In a fog, Mohinder slowly pulled his phone from his pocket. He watched Sylar move around him out the door, grabbing people as he went. He dialed. 

 

“What did you see? What happened? Where did he go?” A different question each person but only blank stares for answers. 

 

“911, what's your emergency?”

 

Mohinder coughed. “Someone's dead.” He saw Sylar shove a particularly blank person to the side, running his hand over the wall as he pushed through the crowd. 

 

“Sir, I need your address and I need to know what happened.”

 

Mohinder gave the operator the name of the club and watched Sylar dip his shoulders to push through the edge of the mosh pit like a scrawny linebacker. “A patron was killed. He's by the bathroom at the front, by the stage.”

 

“Do you know what happened?”

 

He had any idea but didn't speak it. “His head's been cut open.” The operator fell silent. 

 

“Sir,” she started again slowly. “Officers and an ambulance are on their way. Can I have you stay with … with the body?”

 

“Yes. I'm not moving.” He couldn't see Sylar anymore and it was making him nervous. He could hear the operator on the phone talk but wasn't listening. 

 

“Sir!” she tried louder. “Did you see anything? Anything at all?”

 

“No. No, I saw nothing. I hear sirens,” he said as he heard them coming closer. 

 

A drunk patron came up to Mohinder and leaned on the wall next to him. “Yo, man,” he slurred, ignoring the fact Mohinder had a phone pressed to his ear. “Yo, this door work, now? Kept slamming on me earlier. Shit door, gotta take a leak.” He took an uneasy step forward and tripped over the body between them. 

 

Mohinder caught him but dropped his phone, wincing as it splashed in the blood. 

 

“Shit, dude, where's this guy's head? Fuck, where's his  _ head _ !?” He started to yell and Mohinder tried to shush him. People were turning to the commotion and it quickly turned to chaos. 

 

Some people rushed away, some rushed to pick up their phones, placing calls and taking pictures. Mohinder heard the band falter musician by musician and a tense silence fell on the club.

 

Someone hit the lights and the scene was almost garish, oversaturated under fluorescence. 

 

Mohinder’s feeling of detachment didn't fade with the light. He felt surrounded by fuzz, all his senses buried under static. 

 

He watched as police officers pushed through the fray and started to control the situation. They ordered him to the side as they figured out he was the 911 contact. His shoes stuck to the floor with tacky blood as he moved. 

 

He was led outside by a paramedic and checked out for shock. He was alright, just the lingering sense of detachment. 

 

Where was Sylar? 

 

He was watched by a rotation of officers until the body was wheeled out under a sheet. The chill down his spine was the first thing he had felt of reality since the body had come crashing on him. 

 

Two officers approached him and asked if they could talk. Mohinder nodded and gave them his fake ID when they asked.

 

“Mister Singh, we just have a few questions. We understand you placed the 911 call?”

 

“Yes,” he answered. He saw Sylar running down the dark street and back through the lingering crowd. The tension in his chest started to break up. “Yes, I did.”

 

“Sir, you can't -” An officer was trying to stop Sylar from approaching. 

 

“I have to, I'm with him,” he pointed to Mohinder standing on the curb flanked by officers. 

 

“Yes, he is. Please,” Mohinder said just short of pleading when the officer turned to him. He reluctantly let Sylar through. 

 

Sylar grabbed his arm. “Nothing. I couldn't find anything.”

 

“Sir -”

 

“Gabriel.” His eyes didn’t leave Mohinder’s face. 

 

“Were you also at the scene of the crime?”

 

“We discovered the body together, yes.”

 

“Where were you before that?”

 

“The restroom,” Mohinder answered. 

 

The officer turned to Sylar. “Same.” 

 

“For how long?” He was writing their answers. 

 

Mohinder shook his head. “I don't know.”

 

“Twenty seven minutes,” Sylar answered. “I have a good sense of time,” he added.

 

Pulling a confused face, one of the officers asked, “Why were you in the bathroom for half an hour?”

 

“None of your business,” Mohinder snapped. Sylar grabbed his arm. 

 

“We have a serious drug problem in parts of downtown, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” One officer was getting snappy. 

 

Mohinder was getting upset. “That is completely irrelevant.”

 

Sylar snaked his hand down to squeeze Mohinder’s, intertwining their fingers. “We were fucking, what the hell did you think we were doing for half an hour.” He was pissed. 

 

The officer taking notes raised his eyebrows in surprise at Sylar's frankness. “And, um, did you hear anything while you were … in the restroom?”

 

“Nothing relevant to your investigation,” Sylar bit out slowly. 

 

“I opened the door and he - the body must have been against it, he fell at me. Then I noticed … the head, the blood.” He looked down and saw the shine of blood on his shoes. His stomach churned violently. 

 

Sylar squeezed his hand and he looked over. Sylar's big eyes were soft. “Are you alright?” he whispered. Mohinder nodded. He held Sylar's hand tight and finally felt grounded and real.

 

The officer turned to Sylar. “Am I to believe you chased after the suspect?”

 

“‘Chased after’ implies I knew what I was following. I tried, but I found nothing.”

 

“We do not condone members of the public going vigilante. But,” the man stepped closer to Sylar and clapped his shoulder. “Personally, I appreciate your effort.” Sylar nodded. 

 

They were thanked for their time and asked to stay in town a day in case there were more questions. “And we will need your phone numbers, gentlemen.”

 

Sylar rattled off his number but Mohinder raised his hands. “I don't want my phone. I dropped it - in the blood,” he said weakly. 

 

“That's why you didn't answer,” Sylar said. “We'll get you a new one. Had to replace that crap, anyway,” he tried to grin but it was more a grimace. He gave the reporting officer Mohinder’s number off the top of his head. “Until then, you can reach either of us on mine.”

 

The officers parted and broke up the remaining crowd outside. 

 

Mohinder groaned and toed off his shoes. He balled his socks in his pocket and threw his bloody shoes in a trashcan. 

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar ran his hand up his back. “Honey.”

 

“You couldn't find anything.”

 

Sylar shook his head. “No. I tired to read people as I moved, touching things to pick up memories, but it's like this guy is invisible. Or forcing people not to see him.”

 

Mohinder thought about that possibility. “He could have multiple powers.”

 

“He could just have one we haven't thought of.”

 

“What if he's -” like you “- learning as he's going?”

 

Sylar grimaced and flashed his eyes. He shook his head. “We can't deal in ‘what ifs’ right now.” He rubbed Mohinder’s arms and looked at his bare feet. “Baby. Where are we going to get you shoes at this time?”

 

“I'm not worried about shoes.”

 

Sylar hummed. 

 

“I want to go home,” Mohinder said quietly, holding himself. 

 

Sylar rushed to apologise. “Honey, I know this is too much, it was too much of me to ask, I'm so sorry. You can go - I'll take you back to New York, we'll  … we'll go.”

 

Mohinder shook his head. “I can't - I won't leave. We  _ have _ to stop this. I just … when we're done. I want to go home.”

 

Sylar nodded, a silent promise. 


	35. Chapter 35

Sylar’s ringing phone woke them both early in the morning. Mohinder moved Sylar's arm from over his ribcage and buried his face under it. Sylar put out his hand and his phone flew to it.

 

“What,” he mumbled. “Mmhmm ... Can't I tell you over the phone? ...Yeah, I'll be there shortly.” He put the phone under his pillow and signed. He curled his hand in Mohinder’s hair.

 

Mohinder sighed under the touch and reached out to touch Sylar's chest. He scratched his nails over soft hair and down his stomach. Sylar groaned and grabbed his hand.

 

“Mmm, good morning.” He moved his arm from Mohinder’s head and smiled at him. Mohinder stretched forward and kissed him. Sylar rolled over him and held his hands, pressing them into the pillows as they kissed.

 

Mohinder moaned into his mouth and arched his body up against Sylar's.

 

Sylar pulled back slowly, keeping Mohinder’s hands restrained. “I have to go to the police station and make an official statement. Yesterday's wasn't good enough.”

 

Mohinder protested. “Stay.” He let his gaze slip down Sylar's body and bit his lip. “Stay,” he repeated, hooking his ankle around Sylar's calf.

 

Sylar kissed his cheek with a smile. “I'll be back soon. If the police want us to stay today, we'll have _all_ _day,”_ he teased.

 

“Promise?”

 

Sylar nodded and Mohinder pushed his hands up off the pillow, tugging Sylar off balance and to his waiting lips.

 

“Baby. I have to leave,” Sylar said, nipping Mohinder’s jaw as he tilted his head back.

 

“Am I needed too?”

 

Sylar huffed a laugh against Mohinder’s neck. “No, he said my ‘friend’ can stay in bed. Nice to know someone thinks you're the kinda guy I take home, not just some guy I fuck in bathrooms.” His gentle smile relayed a tenderness his words did not and Mohinder blushed. He told Sylar to go but did not release his hands.

 

Sylar kissed his wrists gently, tickling him until he let go.

 

“Stop!” Mohinder laughed and rubbed his wrists on Sylar's shoulders to relieve the itch. Sylar sat up on his hips and stretched. Mohinder hummed and ran his hands down his torso to the soft skin over his underwear.

 

“ _You_ stop,” Sylar chastised.

 

“You're the one still on me.” He gripped Sylar's hips. “How am I supposed to stop in the face of such … temptation?” He ran his tongue over his teeth and leered.

 

“Fuck, Mohinder.” Sylar leaned over and kissed him hard, running his own tongue after his. “God _damn_ it.” He got off the bed and looked behind him on the way to the bathroom.

 

Alone, Mohinder heaved a heavy sigh in the air. He rolled to his side and snoozed until Sylar shook his foot and woke him.

 

“Go buy shoes. I left you my sneakers, they should do you while you shop. And get a phone.” He sat on the bed to lace his boots. He turned back to Mohinder, pointing his finger. “And don't get anything that flips open. Or has a keyboard. Get something modern, damnit, it's the twenty first century.”

 

“My phone was modern.”

 

“Your phone was from the cellular stone age.”

 

“Whatever, bossy,” he groused.

 

“You want bossy, I'll order you around for real.” He swallowed hard and watched Mohinder’s face. He looked nervous, waiting for his reaction.

 

“Tempting. But I prefer to give the orders.” His heart was pounding.

 

Sylar nodded, eyes wide. “Good. Good, I like that.”

 

Mohinder smiled slowly. “Kiss me.”

 

Sylar spun off the bed and fell to his knees, taking Mohinder’s face between his hands and kissing him with a happy hum. Mohinder rose to a kneel on the mattress as Sylar stood, not releasing his lips.

 

“Stay,” Mohinder asked against his lips. Sylar shook his head incrementally and pushed Mohinder back with a firm hand on his chest.

 

“I'll be back soon, baby.”

 

“Take the car.”

 

Sylar smiled. “Okay.”

 

Mohinder looked between his eyes, searching for what he felt the urge to say.

 

“I'll find you,” Sylar said as he turned and left.

  
  
  
  
  


A couple hours later, as he was walking around the streets with a tea and pastry in hand, Mohinder felt the new phone in his pocket vibrate. It took him a moment to figure out how to answer, awkward as he balanced his tea and breakfast in one hand with his shopping bag hanging from his elbow, and tried to swipe the phone screen open with the other.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Take the phone away from your face,” Sylar ordered.

 

“What? Can you hear me?” he held the phone away from his ear.

 

“Look at the screen.”

 

He did. “Oh! Hello!” Sylar's visage grinned at him from the phone.

 

“Welcome to the modern age. Tilt your phone down, I don't want to look at the damn sky.” He tilted it down. “ _That's_ better. Hey gorgeous. This is where I'd like to ask what you're wearing but I can see it's the Mohinder special - disco librarian.”

 

“What the hell! What's wrong with paisley?”

 

Sylar stared at him with a blank face. He cracked and smiled. “I actually kind of like the librarian look. Don't tell anyone, they'll think I'm a dork.”

 

Mohinder chuckled. “Too late. I already think you're a dork.” He could see Sylar was walking, but he didn't know where. “Are you done at the station?”

 

“Yeah. Are you done with errands?” Mohinder nodded. “Good. Then you're mine the rest of the day.”

 

Mohinder hummed. “Meet me back at the room,” he said.

 

“I was coming to find you.”

 

“As _almost_ sweet as the stalker routine is, why don't we just not waste time? I'll be there soon.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay. Bye.”

 

Sylar disconnected the call and Mohinder turned around, back to the hotel. He was about half a mile away, giving him plenty of time to finish his breakfast.

 

Sylar was in the shower when he got upstairs. He thought about joining him, but sat in the armchair by the window instead. The blackout curtains were open but privacy curtains drawn, letting hazy light enter the room.

 

Mohinder was waiting when Sylar left the bathroom. Steam curled around him as he opened the door, towel low on his hips.

 

Mohinder’s mouth went dry as he stared. Sylar's damp skin caught the low light, bright curves and liquid valleys.

 

Sylar noticed him sitting in the armchair. He quirked his mouth in a sideways smile that fell into an open mouthed exhale when Mohinder motioned him over.

 

He leaned back and spread his legs when Sylar stopped in front of him. Sylar rested a hand on the chair’s arm and bent his knees to fall in front of Mohinder.

 

Quickly, Mohinder grabbed the back of his legs and pulled him in to kneel on top of his thighs in the chair.

 

“Oh,” Sylar breathed. He ran his hands up Mohinder’s chest and bent to kiss him. Mohinder wrapped his hands around Sylar's waist and pulled him closer.

 

He moaned into Sylar's mouth and Sylar dragged his teeth over his lip.

 

The towel at Sylar's waist was gaping and pushed high up his thighs. He pressed his erection to Mohinder’s stomach and ground his hips back and forth. Mohinder grabbed the neck of his shirt and tore it off, breathless at the skin to skin contact.

 

Sylar curled around Mohinder’s shoulder, grabbing onto his hair. Mohinder slid his hands down the back of Sylar's towel, pushing it off as it came loose. He palmed the globes of Sylar's ass as he kissed at his neck. Mohinder let a single finger travel up Sylar's crack and over his hole.

 

“Oh, Mohinder.” His hips started to stagger their rhythm and his breath was coming in tiny pants.

 

Mohinder bit his neck and slid his hands under Sylar's thighs. While Sylar was distracted, he stood from the chair, lifting him.

 

“Oh my god!” a shiver wracked his body as Mohinder walked him to the large bed and threw him in the middle.

 

Sylar arched his back off the bed and bent his long legs up. His cock was leaking against his belly, red with need.

 

Mohinder ran gentle fingers up the insides of his thighs and felt Sylar's legs tremble.

 

He grinned and pulled Sylar down the bed closer to where he stood. His fingers resumed their path up his thighs and he gently cupped Sylar's soft bare balls. He must have just shaved, his dark hair was neatly trimmed from over his straining cock to his navel and he had none on the tender skin between his legs.

 

His voice was deep and rough as he asked “Where you expecting something?” Mohinder spread his legs wider.

 

Sylar gasped, “Guy can hope.”

 

“Mmm,” Mohinder answered as he bent to kiss Sylar's leg from his knee. The skin on his inner thighs was soft and so tender - Sylar's hands thrashed on the comforter as he placed wet open mouthed kisses up his leg.

 

He nuzzled the crease between leg and groin, watching Sylar's balls pull high in preparation of release. He turned his head and breathed a hot breath across Sylar's cock.

 

Sylar's nails raked over his scalp. “Baby, oh.”

 

Mohinder opened his mouth hovering over the base of Sylar's cock and exhaled shakily as it twitched one big jump.

 

“Don't come yet,” he ordered.

 

Sylar laughed, breathy and hot. “No promises.”

 

“Do _not_ come yet.” Mohinder rested his knees on the bedspread, grasping Sylar's hip. “Turn. Turn over.”

 

Sylar did, rolling onto hands and knees. Mohinder pushed down hard on his shoulders, watching as Sylar flattened his chest and turned his head to watch him from the corner of his eye.

 

He palmed his clothed erection and bit his lip, giving Sylar a show. Sylar moaned and pressed his shoulders deeper into the mattress and lifted his ass high in the air.

 

Mohinder shook his head in disbelief as he knelt behind Sylar. His hands palmed his cheeks and he spread them with his thumbs.

Sylar had shaved everywhere.

 

Mohinder moaned his appreciation. He kissed one firm cheek and listened to Sylar's answering whine. He dragged his hands down from Sylar's back, over his ass, and down his thighs.

 

Shivering, Sylar whispered his name. His knees slid further apart on the slick bedspread.

 

Mohinder grabbed the hinges of his thighs and dragged him closer to the edge of the bed. He watched Sylar's cock twitch from between his legs.

 

He wanted to taste it so bad. He held Sylar's thighs tight and dragged the tip of his tongue over the vein pulsing his racing heartbeat through his dick. Sylar let out a stuttering gasp as Mohinder’s tongue continued over his balls, pulled tight to his body, and over his perineum.

 

Mohinder didn't change pressure as he flicked his tongue over Sylar's asshole.

 

“Oh my god oh my god!” Sylar tried to buck back into the touch but Mohinder held him right where he was.

 

He kissed the top of Sylar's crack, looking down his body, back muscles tense and hands fisted tight in the blanket.

 

“Is this alright?” he asked in a broken voice.

 

“Yes! Yes, god yes, Mohinder please,” he turned his face into the blanket and rolled onto his forehead to free his mouth to breathe. He was gasping and pushing so hard with his arms to press back against Mohinder’s mouth but was held firmly in place.

 

His struggle was breathtaking.

 

Mohinder tightened his hands and bent to place the flat of his tongue against Sylar's hole. He held still and absorbed all Sylar's attempts to move with his strong arms.

 

“Please…” Sylar moaned, dragging out the vowels with need. Mohinder increased pressure with his tongue and Sylar kicked a foot next to him.

 

Mohinder grinned and flicked his tongue. He circled the hole and the skin around, placing soft kisses on the tender flesh. He moved his hands to pull Sylar's cheeks flat and ran a long swipe of his tongue down over his scrotum again.

 

Sylar gasped and arched his back up as Mohinder wrapped his mouth around a testicle. He ran his tongue over the sensitive seam between them and watched precome ooze from Sylar's cock next to his head.

 

He bucked his hips in the air and felt his erection pressed against the fly of his pants. He was painfully hard but the friction was delicious.

 

He dragged his lips over Sylar's ass, tongue resuming circling his hole. He lapped quickly, desperate. Using just the tip, he pressed inside and Sylar wailed.

 

Mohinder felt Sylar's muscles tense under his hands and his tongue was shoved out as he clenched. He stroked up Sylar's back and whispered for him to relax.

 

Sylar breathed hard. “How?”

 

“Just relax. Let me in,” he licked a wide stripe over his hole and Sylar shivered.

 

He spread Sylar's cheeks wide and kissed the puckered hole. Sylar breathed out hard. Curious, Mohinder covered it with his mouth and sucked softly.

 

And Sylar lost it. He all but threw his ass in Mohinder’s face, begging for more.

 

Happy to oblige, Mohinder sucked harder, dragging his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Tiny kitten licks and increasing suction had Sylar melting in his hands and he was able to breach his entrance.

 

He moaned and dug his nails into Sylar's flesh, prodding his tongue as far as he could, feeling Sylar tremble. He wrapped his arms around Sylar's thighs and dragged him down the bed.

 

Mohinder wrapped a hand around Sylar's leaking cock and twisted a tight fist down the length.

 

A ragged cry escaped Sylar's throat as he came hard on the bedspread. He clenched hard around Mohinder’s tongue; he was deep enough to be caught instead of pushed out so Mohinder wiggled his tongue’s tip, making Sylar jump and shiver. Mohinder jerked his hips at the sight and felt his own cock pulse in his slacks, come trapped in the tight fabric.

 

He sighed and rested his head on the small of Sylar's back. He felt Sylar's body heave with large breaths. His own breathing was evening out when Sylar rolled to the side, throwing him off and to the bed.

 

“Ow. Oh my god,” Sylar said as he stretched his legs, stiff from holding position so long. He flapped his hand at his side, blindly finding Mohinder’s head and curling his fingers in his hair. “Just - just gimme a moment and it's all you, baby.”

 

“No need,” Mohinder said as he pulled his pants from his groin.

 

“What?” he turned his head lazily and saw Mohinder plucking at the damp fabric. “Oh shit.” He surmised what had happened. He rolled over and reached for Mohinder’s belt.

 

“Hey,” Mohinder gave his hands a half assed push as they worked open his fly. Sylar yanked his pants off and kissed up his leg. He moaned when he saw Mohinder’s damp boxers and pulled them down slowly.

 

Mohinder whined as cool air hit his wet flesh.

Sylar braced his hands on Mohinder’s thighs and licked a wide stripe through the come smeared on his softening cock.

 

Mohinder jerked, oversensitive and overwhelmed. He twisted his fingers in Sylar's hair as he cleaned him, soft stroking tongue and sucking mouth.

 

Sylar wrapped his mouth around his dick and sucked, bobbing once, twice, and Mohinder felt himself try to get hard again. He looked down at Sylar and shivered.

 

“Stop, stop I can't!”

 

“Mmm.” Sylar released him with a pop and crawled over him, kissing his chest and neck and face.

 

Mohinder curled his hands around his neck and kissed him hard. “Oh, sorry!” he tried to push Sylar off when he remembered where his mouth had just been.

 

“I'll live.” Sylar rested his body on Mohinder’s and leaned back into Mohinder’s hands as they worked their way down his back.  Sylar kissed him again, a lazy drag of lips.

 

He closed his eyes and breathed deep,  looking close to falling asleep. “Just a nap, okay?”

 

“No, no, come on.” Mohinder pushed his shoulders. Sylar groaned in protest but shuffled back into his knees. Mohinder grabbed the soiled comforter and worked it off the bed. He grinned and pushed Sylar over sideways into the pillows to get the part of the blanket he was anchoring.

 

Comforter on the ground, he pulled the sheets up and over them as they laid down.

 

“I wanted that blanket,” Sylar grumbled into the pillows.

 

“Well, I told you not to come,” Mohinder teased.

 

“Yeah, like I could just not. I thought you hadn't been with a man before?”

 

Mohinder pretended to be busy fluffing his pile of pillows. Sylar let out a questioning hum and he felt his face heat as he answered, “Men aren't the only ones with anuses, Sylar.”

 

Sylar hummed again, in appreciation. He rubbed his hand down Mohinder’s back and side as he turned to face him. “This trip has been enlightening. Between the motorbike and the analingus, you just get more and more exciting,” he grinned, cocky.

 

Mohinder hit him in the face with a perfectly fluffed pillow. “Shut up! Just go to sleep, asshole.”

 

“Mmm, yes sir.”

 

Mohinder sighed and threw his arm over Sylar's shoulder. On afterthought, he tucked his leg between Sylar's, curling in close to watch him fall asleep through heavy eyes.

 


	36. Chapter 36

Mohinder woke up face down in the pillows. He felt Sylar’s kisses across his shoulders before he felt his weight on him. He stayed still, not wanting him to move. 

 

Sylar lightly nipped at his shoulder blade before he whispered good morning. 

 

“Mmm, is it morning?”

 

“No. You were out for a couple hours though. I'm hungry.” He could hear the pout in Sylar's voice. 

 

Mohinder laughed but it morphed to a moan heavy with lust. Sylar rocked his hips, pressing his erection to the underside of Mohinder’s asscheek as he straddled his leg. “Oh, Sylar.”

 

“Mmm, you're awake then?”

 

“Mmhmm,” he pushed back against Sylar's grinding hips. 

 

“Good. Let's blow this joint, I'm tired of Arizona.” He placed a firm wet kiss on the back of Mohinder’s neck, a small gasp falling from his mouth as he fingered the bruise darkening his skin. “Mohinder. Oh my god, I'm so sorry.”

 

Mohinder pressed into his touch. “I'm not. I don't mind.”

 

“I don't want to hurt you.” He pushed himself up on all fours and Mohinder barely stifled a whine at the lost contact. 

 

“I'm not in pain, don't worry.” He rolled over between Sylar's arms and ran his hand down his face. “I like feeling your touch on me, even after we part. Please kiss me.”

 

Sylar was slow to do so so Mohinder pulled him down and traced his lips with his tongue as they kissed. Sylar moaned against his mouth. 

 

Holding Sylar to him with his arms slung over his neck, Mohinder asked, “Aren't we supposed to stay in town? If the police have questions?”

 

“It's the close of business hours, I doubt we'll be needed. Oh, by the way, I got off with a warning,” he grinned. 

 

“A warning about what?”

 

“There's decency laws against sex in public. They got no complaints against us, but it was part of my statement, so I got a slap on the wrist.” He was blushing slightly high on his cheeks and his grin was shy. 

 

Mohinder’s grin wasn't shy at all. He looked outright lascivious as he purred, “Mmm, I've never worked well with warnings. I might have to learn my lesson again.”

 

“God damn, Mohinder.” Sylar fell on him with open mouthed hungry kisses and Mohinder held him tight under his locked arms. He moaned and rolled his body up against Sylar's. 

 

“Please, Sylar. Please.”

 

“I love when you say my name,” Sylar whispered in his ear. 

 

Mohinder paused before he ran his hands down Sylar's back and grasping his ass, pulling him closer. “Gabriel,” he moaned as he rubbed their hard cocks against another. 

 

Watching Sylar's face, he wasn't sure if calling him by his Christian name was a good call or not. His face twisted in half-extacy and half-torment. His hips staggered and Mohinder felt him come, leaking onto his dick and stomach below. 

 

Sylar nuzzled Mohinder’s face and without looking at him, asked, “Who am I to you?”

 

Mohinder’s breath caught as he thought about the answer. 

 

“Who?” Sylar choked, desperation thick in his voice.

 

“You're … Sylar. You're everything you've done,” his voice cracked. “You're everything you've become.” He ran his hands down Sylar's back. “You're a man looking for a future but built upon your past.”

 

“Who am I to  _ you _ ?” he whispered again, leaning back to look in Mohinder’s eyes. 

 

Mohinder cupped his face in his hands. He kissed him softly. “You're beautiful.” He curled his hands over Sylar's shoulders. “You're strong.” He gripped his shoulders but kissed his forehead, trying to convey the multitudes of strengths he saw. “You're sexy.” Sylar blushed. Mohinder craned his neck to speak in his ear. “So sexy, Sylar.” 

 

He let one hand travel back down to cup his ass, the other one fell to his own chest. Watching Sylar watch his hand, he traced down his body and took himself in hand, thrusting up into his fingers. Sylar watched him, head hanging down between his arms, for a few strokes before his eyes darted back up.

 

Mohinder bit his lip as their eyes met, feeling himself near release. “Sylar,” he breathed, feeling the come Sylar had spent over his cock smearing on his own as he stroked. “Sylar, kiss me.”

 

He did, eagerly swallowing Mohinder’s pants and moans and gasping between their lips as he felt Mohinder’s body tense. 

 

“You're so special Sylar.” He struggled to keep eye contact as he came, writhing under Sylar's dark stare. 

 

Sylar kissed his face as his cock pulsed, weak so soon after another. He felt his eyelids flutter closed as he melted under Sylar's touch. He leaned up into his hands, wrapping around his ribcage as Sylar sat back on his hips. 

 

He barely heard Sylar's say, “I don't want to be special.”

 

He blinked and looked up at Sylar, sitting with eyes downcast and jaw clenched. 

 

“Sylar,” he reached out to him but Sylar pulled away. 

 

He stood on shaky legs. “Mohinder, I …” he touched his chest over his racing heart and turned away. 

 

Mohinder pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and wondered where he went wrong. 

 

After a few tense minutes, Sylar came back from the bathroom and sat next to him. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out like that.”

 

“I shouldn't have called you -”

 

“No,” Sylar interrupted with a hand in the air. “You caught me by surprise, but … I don't mind.” He dropped his hand to Mohinder’s thigh, stroking his thumb over the tight muscle. He looked around the room, focusing on nothing and everything except Mohinder. His voice was a weak whisper when he spoke again: “I can't stand to be used again.”

 

Mohinder watched him silently. 

 

Sylar's hand tightened on his leg. “Are you using me, Mohinder?”

 

“Where is this coming from?”

 

“Please just … tell me you aren't. You aren't going to turn me in. You aren't going to turn on me. I'm not just a means to an end.”

 

“No. No, of course I'm not going to.” While he was still unsure what had compelled him to leave with Sylar, or that his reasons for being  _ with _ Sylar were purely altruistic, he was damn sure he wouldn't turn the man in to anyone. And he couldn't foresee anything that would make him turn on him personally. What a turnabout from where they had been.

 

Sylar turned to him then, eyes wide. 

 

Mohinder laced his fingers with the ones grazing across his thigh. “Why would you even ask that?” He sat up and held Sylar's hand tight. 

 

Sylar averted his eyes again but Mohinder caught his chin and pointedly turned him back. “Every time my life is going well, every time I have something nice, something goes terribly wrong.”

 

“I'm something nice in your life?” Mohinder couldn't help but grin. 

 

Sylar blinked. “You're the best.” It was a simple statement he had heard variations of all week, but without the light demeanor of gratitude or teasing, Mohinder felt their whole weight. 

 

He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand on the pillows. “This is awfully serious for pillow talk, Sylar.”

 

Sylar shrugged with forced casualness. “You make me … raw. I feel vulnerable and I'm looking for something to attack. I feel like I'm losing control.” He flinched at his admission, but Mohinder touched his cheek and hummed. 

 

“I know  _ exactly _ how you feel.”

 

Sylar looked hard in his eyes and shivered. He nodded and looked down; Mohinder allowed him the privacy. 

 

Their fingers tangled, Sylar's unable to still. 

 

Mohinder tilted his head and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

 

Sylar's head snapped up quickly, lips parted and eyes wide. He nodded and Mohinder touched him softly, just lips on lips. Sylar moaned and reached to touch Mohinder’s arm, but he pulled out of reach. Sylar's hand, arrested en route, hung open in the air between them. 

 

Mohinder pulled back and Sylar breathed rough between them. “Can I touch you?” Mohinder asked softly. 

 

“Yes,” Sylar breathed, nodding. 

 

Mohinder pressed his palm to Sylar's, evening the pressure between them to a balance before he laced their fingers in a mirror to the stilled hands in his lap. 

 

Sylar leaned forward, lips parted so invitingly, but Mohinder dodged. He grinned as Sylar flashed his eyes at him. Before Sylar could waver, Mohinder smiled wider and met Sylar nose to nose. He made Sylar close the distance between them and moaned when he did. 

 

“Would you feel less vulnerable without me ordering you around?” he smiled. 

 

“I like it.” He kissed Mohinder harder, tilting his head and running his tongue up the hinge of his mouth. 

 

Mohinder struggled to keep his hands steady. “Not what I asked.”

 

Sylar whined, a long and needy sound. “Maybe.”

 

Mohinder squeezed Sylar's hands. “Then let's find a balance.” He pressed on Sylar's raised hand and felt him push back. “Yes?”

 

“Yes.” His lips didn't leave Mohinder’s, they brushed their confirmation softly against his. 

 

Mohinder broke their kiss to run his face along Sylar's stubbled jaw. He kissed the tender skin under his ear and said, “I  _ really _ liked waking up under you. I like you above me.”

 

Sylar gasped and Mohinder continued, emboldened. “I like when you have control over me, I like  _ losing _ control to you. You don't have to ask, just - just do what you want with me.” Sylar was holding his breath. Mohinder kissed his cheek. “Okay?”

 

Sylar exhaled forcibly. “Really? You trust me like that?”

 

Mohinder thought about it a good few seconds but his answer never wavered as he did. “Yes.”

 

Sylar sat back and looked at him, incredulous. He shook his head. “Honey.” He curled his fingers into Mohinder’s hair, pulling him close. “I never thought I'd be so lucky.”

 

“You took a chance,” Mohinder winked. 

 

Sylar leaned toward him but veered his lips to the side, brushing down Mohinder’s neck as he tilted his head back. He kissed over his clavicle and sighed. “If we stay here, we'll never leave.” Mohinder smiled at his obvious observation. “You know what I mean. We should start driving. Before I get lost in you.”

 

“Mmmm, and why would I want to lose out on  _ this _ ?” Mohinder sighed as Sylar flicked his tongue over one nipple, tugging and teasing the other with his fingers. 

 

“Not losing out on. Just … delaying the inevitable.” Sylar's face held promises that Mohinder lost his breath thinking about. “Come on,” he said against Mohinder’s lips kissing him as he backed off the bed. Mohinder crawled after him to keep contact. Mohinder curled a hand over his hip and followed him to a standing position with a boneless grace. 

 

Sylar pushed himself back as he braced on Mohinder’s shoulders and looked down his body. “God, you're gorgeous.”

 

Mohinder, not one to shy from compliments, felt a blush heat his cheeks under Sylar's wanting stare. 

 

He brushed his hands up Sylar's chest and clasped them behind his neck. “Can I take you to dinner?”

 

“Why, Mohinder, are you finally asking me out?” His eyes had the playful sparkle Mohinder had gotten used to during the week. The way he swung through opposing moods made Mohinder’s head spin but he wanted to keep him in a good mood. 

 

Mohinder ignored his taunt. “You may have to put on pants,” he teased with his voice and with a finger running the lines of his bare hip. 

 

“Well, in that case …” Sylar cocked a sideways grin and Mohinder threw him a look showing his lack of amusement. 

 

“Shut up.” Mohinder silenced him with his lips. 


	37. Chapter 37

They had been driving for barely half an hour after dinner when Sylar slapped his hand over Mohinder’s on the steering wheel. “The graffiti!”

 

“Oh shit!” Mohinder had been so wrapped up in Sylar and then in the chaos around the corpse, and then in Sylar _again_ , he had completely forgotten to look for any clues at the concert hall. “Fuck!” He pulled off the freeway and turned around to go back into town.

 

“Hold on, maybe I can …” Sylar dug in the glove compartment and took out a pad of paper and a bottle of ink.

 

“I don't remember those being there.”

 

“I picked them up yesterday. Thought I should get some supplies.”

 

Mohinder nodded. He saw Sylar opening the ink and put his hand over his before he pulled the lid off. He pulled into a parking lot. “ _Now_ you may use that in my car,” he said pointedly.

 

“I wouldn't have spilled it,” Sylar teased. He poured some over the paper and Mohinder watched it swirl around his fingers.

 

They waited for the picture to emerge. Sylar's eyes widened as it did and he turned, back to the door, and tucked his knees up, effectively hiding the picture from Mohinder.

 

“Let me see,” he said, fingering the corner of the paper.

 

Sylar tore it off the pad and tucked it in the door. “No. I'll try again.”

 

“What was it?” Mohinder grinned, curiosity burning.

 

Sylar didn't answer as he poured the ink again. His eyes flew wide again and he took his hand from the paper like it was on fire.

 

“What?” Mohinder pulled the papers toward him and saw the ink still rolling, a scene playing through stuttering frames, like a flipbook. “Oh, wow,” he muttered behind a hand, stunned to silence as he watched his body get pounded into the bathroom stall wall in Sylar's point of view. His view of it was upside down, but he saw the raw eroticism of it and his head swam.

 

Sylar slammed his inky hand to the paper and it flashed with golden light, stopping the animation.

 

“I … I guess I was too distracted to see anything last night.” Sylar's voice was tight. Mohinder looked up and saw him swallow hard.

 

“Is that really what I look like?” Mohinder couldn't help but ask. He grabbed the corner of the paper but Sylar fought him. “Please?” he asked. Sylar grimaced and removed his hand. He tucked his legs higher and watched Mohinder as his eyes searched the drawing.

 

He saw his head thrown back, extacy across his closed eyes and open mouth. His hips were tilted forward and cut off the paper.  His shirt was wrinkled and askew, riding up his stomach.

 

His eyes were most attracted to Sylar's sketched hands, paper white on the gentle crosshatching denoting his own darker skin. Sylar's hands holding him firm to the wall, both holding him down and holding him up.

 

He felt arousal rush under his skin as he thought of those hands and saw himself at their mercy in the drawing. He remembered the feeling of Sylar's naked cock under him as he thrust against him, the crash of breathless shock as Sylar slammed him into the wall repeatedly.

 

“Sylar.” The roughness of his voice surprised him. “Fuck. What's the other one?”

 

Sylar blinked as Mohinder handed the drawing back. He panted a heavy exhale as he saw the picture again. “Fuck.” He reached behind him for the hidden drawing and handed it over, eyes roving it slowly as it passed through his hands.

 

Mohinder turned the drawing around and gasped.

 

He was standing over Sylar, shirt pushed up to his neck. His face was almost blacked out with heavy shadows as the overhead light shone around his shoulder.

 

Sylar's hand was large in the foreground, pressed to Mohinder’s stomach.

 

Mohinder knew that off frame, his cock was fully engulfed in Sylar's mouth. He knew Sylar was looking up at him through blinking eyes, watering just a little as his throat fluttered sharp swallows around the head of his cock. He knew Sylar's pupils were blown with lust behind his thick eyelashes. He knew that pale, pale hand was not laying still on his stomach but pressing down, fingertip by fingertip, stroking his skin with barely contained desire.

 

He had these two glimpses of what Sylar had seen and he knew his lust was matched. He looked back up at Sylar, tucked silently into the passenger seat. He touched his knee gently, caressing it as he jumped. “Is this what you see?”

 

Sylar was silent, looking at the drawing in his lap. “It's a start.” He hummed and traced a finger across Mohinder’s sketched chest. “You flush, right here,” he moved his fingertips to the drawing’s cheeks, “And right here.” His finger moved to his hair, tousled and wild in the drawing in his lap. “When I tug your hair, right behind your ear,” he looked up at Mohinder, caressing his face and tangling his fingers in the exact spot before pulling gently. “You get the same lost and awed look as when I show you my powers.”

 

Mohinder felt the look cross his face with Sylar's tugging, and felt the blush he had described raise high on his cheekbones at being called out.

 

Sylar raised his other hand to mirror its opposite in Mohinder’s curls. Mohinder breathed hard and Sylar leaned toward him. “When I kiss you, you fight for dominance, like you always have fought with me. I see your jaw tense here,” he moved his hands to the corners of his jaw and Mohinder felt the muscles clench as Sylar kissed him softly. Mohinder pressed into him, aching for a harder touch, and moaned as he realized Sylar was correct on his reactions there too.

 

“Sylar,” he gasped, hands tangling in his shirt.

 

“When I see you, I see you on fire. You are always so passionate and I have seen it manifested in many ways, toward many things. But the passion in your eyes when you touch me … I would give the world to see that forever.”

 

Mohinder’s throat caught and he couldn't reply. He just watched Sylar smile and take his hand, kissing his palm. “I could never reduce all of you to a flat image, you're far too much.”

 

“Sylar, please,” Mohinder croaked through his dry throat, squeezing Sylar's hand. “Please, can I kiss you?”

 

“Is that all you want to do?” he grinned.

 

Lust colored Mohinder’s answer darkly: “No.”

 

He watched Sylar's eyes dart between his own and his mouth and down his body and he moaned, almost able to feel his wandering stare.

 

No. He _could_ feel it.

 

Sylar was caressing down his body with telekinesis.

 

Mohinder anchored himself to Sylar's hand and leaned back in the car seat, feeling his ghost touch graze over his face, over the curve of his ear, following his racing pulse down his carotid artery. He sighed as his shirt ruffled under gentle pressure, the only visual proof of Sylar's touch. He felt the touch split in two, winding down both his thighs simultaneously. He tilted his hips to the edge of the seat, silently begging the twin touch to curl around his cock.

 

Sylar squeezed his hand and ran his thumb over the top of his hand in firm circles.

 

“Sylar, please,” he begged.

 

“Mohinder,” he purred, pulling his eyes to meet his. “Later, baby. Anything you want.”

 

“Now,” he ordered, bucking up toward the gentle touch tickling up his inseam.

 

Sylar kissed his hand again. “Later,” he repeated. “We have to go back to the club now.”

 

“We can go in a few minutes. Please. I need you now.”

 

Sylar laughed and moved their entwined hands up to stroke the back of his hand over Mohinder’s face. “Nuhuh. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

 

Mohinder whined as the telekenetic touch tapered off and vanished. “You said anything I want.”

 

“Anything, yes. But it'll be at my pace. And I want to see how much pleasure I can eke out of you.”

 

“Oh gods, Sylar, keep talking.” He thrust his hips up and felt the tip of his cock rub the fabric of his fly. He slid easy in the precome slicking his boxers and knew he would come soon, and come hard.

 

Sylar grabbed his hip and pushed him back in the seat. He licked his lips and panted as he saw Mohinder’s erection pressed in his slacks. “Later. Later,” he repeated, breathing deep. “Oh god, baby, I want you so much.”

 

Mohinder nodded.

 

“But we have to do this. After that, baby.”

 

“After,” Mohinder repeated.

 

“Please drive. Fast.” His hand trailed from Mohinder’s hip to his knee and he scratched at the fabric on the inside of his knee. “Please go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sylar paid their cover at the club and pushed Mohinder in toward the stage. Mohinder stopped excusing himself and started rudely winding around and between people when Sylar started pressing up against him in the crowd. The long line of his body was hot and distracting against his.

 

He reached the side of the stage and scoured the walls. There were people dancing and jumping everywhere. He couldn't see.

 

The pounding music hit a quiet second between drum beats and guitar riffs; Sylar used it to simply order, “Move,” and everyone in the vicinity did.

 

Mohinder sighed, able to breathe without the press of bodies around him. He looked the wall over but there was nothing there.

 

He felt Sylar's hand on his back and felt his lips brush his ear. “I'll check the bathroom.” People were starting to fill in the space he had cleared so Mohinder followed.

 

They checked the stalls after the walls, but there was nothing. “Where the hell,” Mohinder muttered as he bent to check under the sinks. He glanced over the ceiling and back at Sylar, shrugging.

 

Sylar huffed, frustrated, and left the room. He held the door open as Mohinder slipped out behind him. The door was plastered with stickers, but nothing else. He peeled up the edges of some of the fresher looking ones but there was nothing but more stickers underneath. “Damn it,” he swore, smacking the door with his palm.

 

Mohinder grabbed his arm. “Do you smell that?”

 

Sylar rested his hand on the curve between Mohinder’s back and ass and answered he didn't.

 

“Paint.” He leaned into Sylar's touch.

 

Sylar looked over at him. “Maybe your senses _are_ still amplified, not just your strength.” Mohinder shrugged.

 

Sylar pushed through people to get to the wall between the bathroom and stage. It was painted black, but part of it looked shinier, fresher than the rest. “I think you're right,” he told Mohinder as he pushed through to join him. Sylar raised his hand to the wall and Mohinder watched him close his eyes, trying to get a read from it.

 

Sylar tilted his head to the side, face screwed up in concentration. Mohinder ran his hand down his back.

 

“There's - there's so much. It's so hard to focus, everything is so loud.” He flinched, face pained. “Oh my god, so loud. Baby, I can't -”

 

“Don't listen. You don't need to hear, just see,” Mohinder suggested, wrapping his hand around Sylar's against the wall. Sylar's face slowly relaxed and his joints lost some tension as Mohinder pressed full body against him. “Concentrate.”

 

“I can't concentrate with you on my ass,” Sylar growled. Mohinder grinned and ran his hands over the globes of said ass. “Mohinder, seriously,” Sylar elbowed him but couldn't hide the smile in his voice.

 

Mohinder stepped back, running his hand down Sylar's side. He pushed through the crowd again and went toward the front door, intending to ask the doorman about who does the maintenance. He passed an empty hallway, and on a whim, ducked down it. He followed it around the corner, stacked high with boxes.

 

He opened the couple doors further down the hall and found the janitorial closet - complete with the thick turpentine smell of freshly cleaned brushes. “Bingo,” he muttered to himself as he texted Sylar where he was.

 

He started to turn to wait outside the closet, but he stopped. Or, he was stopped. It felt like something physically grabbed him and held him in place so he couldn't move. But he couldn't turn his head, either, to see what it was.

 

“Sylar?” he breathed, feeling his heart race. Fear ran rampant in his veins, choking him. This really wasn't the kind of thing Mohinder had been expecting when he told Sylar he could do anything to him.

 

Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have been expecting an attack all along - toyed with, led to complacency, seduced and murdered. Why would he ever have expected anything else?

 

He tried to turn and was again denied. It felt like his heart would jump out of his chest. He tried a weak appeal, “Gabriel,” the name wavering out of his mouth.

 

“No,” he heard behind him. It was a deep, rough voice, not Sylar's.

 

He wanted to sigh in relief but Sylar's gamut of powers flew through his head. It could be a stranger behind him, overpowering him. But it could be Sylar, wearing someone else's voice, someone else's face.

 

No.

 

No, Sylar wouldn't kill him in disguise, there was always too much between them. He would never have betrayed their history, their intimacy, by seeing Mohinder’s end through someone else's eyes.

 

The voice behind him was someone else.

 

He was going to die, head cut open, blood spayed everywhere. He wanted to cry but couldn't.

 

“You would dare try to neuter him, call him a dead name, appease to his _humanity_?” the man behind him spat.

 

Mohinder felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Gods, Sylar, don't just text! Come! Mohinder’s chest felt tight, so tight. He could hardly breathe.

 

The man stepped closer, leaning in to Mohinder’s ear. “What do you think he’d do if he found you splattered everywhere? _I_ think he'd be _back_ . All your taming, all your seduction for nothing. You can never hope to tame him. I'll bring him back to what he once was.” Mohinder shivered, feeling it burn up his back with arrested movement. “You'll never win. You're not strong, not like _he_ is. Your death will bring him back.”

 

Mohinder heard him move, walk around him in a semi circle, never moving into his peripheral. He heard a ringing start in his ears, getting louder and more painful, and he grimaced, unable to scream.

 

He was going to die.

 

After a long moment of agony, a hand clapped to his shoulder and his legs collapsed.

 

“Mohinder!” Sylar fell next to him.

 

Gasping air back into his tight lungs, Mohinder scrabbled on the floor for purchase. Sylar gave him his hands and he held tight.

 

“He's here. We need - need to go.”

 

Sylar moved up on his knees but didn't stand. He just hovered over Mohinder, looking worried.

 

“Go!” Mohinder wheezed.

 

Sylar shook his head. “Not until you're okay.”

 

“He's here. Someone's going to get hurt.”

 

“You did,” Sylar's voice hit a dangerous baritone.

 

Mohinder shook his head and shuffled his legs, trying to stand. “No. Go,” he ordered.

 

“No!”

 

Mohinder pushed him with their joined hands. Sylar fought his hands back to his chest and glared down at him. “You are more important. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

“You're an idiot,” Mohinder spat, standing slowly with Sylar's help.

 

Ignoring him, Sylar asked what had happened.

 

Mohinder knew not answering would prolong their waiting, so he tried to bite back his anger. “I came down the hall, checked the doors, saw the paint cans and texted you so you could try to get something off them. A moment later, I froze. I couldn't move anything, but I heard him behind me.”

 

“You froze?”

 

Mohinder nodded. “Not of my own volition. It was like I was being held still, every voluntary muscle locked.”

 

Sylar looked worried. “Did you feel … at peace? Comfortable?”

 

Mohinder shook his head hard. “No. I was terrified. I knew I was going to die. You didn't … hear my heart?”

 

“No. You asked me to stop listening,” Sylar said softly.

 

Mohinder felt the last of the tension he was holding on to slip away and he fell against Sylar's shoulder. Sylar wrapped him in his arms, stroking down his back.

 

“What did he do?” he asked, anger barely contained in his voice.

 

“Later.” Mohinder shook his head and stepped back. “We have to find him. He was still here when you texted me. How long ago was that?”

 

“Seventeen minutes.”

 

“What?!”

 

“It took me a while to get back here, I talked to the barback about the paint job, no one here remembers what it said, but that doesn't matter now.”

 

“Of course it does!” Someone will die! Why didn't he care?

 

Sylar held Mohinder’s arm and turned him around. The wall behind them was spray painted, large letters ‘ihaxd’, the familiar ‘S’, and the word ‘HURRY’.

 

“Oh.” He shivered and Sylar held him tighter. “We have to go. Now.”

 

“I'm sure he's gone by now.”

 

“There's still a chance! We could catch him _now_!”

 

Sylar grabbed his arm as he tried to leave the storeroom. “I'm sure he's gone,” he repeated.

 

“Why are you stopping me?” he yelled, throwing Sylar's arm off. “We're closer than we've ever been, we could stop this now!”

 

“How? Incapacitate him? We don't know what the hell he does besides kill and … fucking freeze people!”

 

“You can stop him. For good!”

 

“I will _not_ kill him! What the fuck do you expect me to do?!"

 

Mohinder seethed. He had no ideas, and it was pissing him off. Sylar’s wasting time was pissing him off. Being powerless in the face of the man they were after _really_ pissed him off. He glared at Sylar silently and wracked his brain for a solution.

 

As he glared, he saw Sylar's hands shaking at his sides. “You're trembling, what's wrong?” he ground out.

 

Sylar swallowed and looked away. He tried to control his shaking by making fists but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. With a sigh, he said, “I'm scared. I'm fucking frightened. He could have - Mohinder, he could have killed you, and I wouldn't have known until it was too late. I led him right to you. His power - it's so much like me. Like… like my father,” his voice broke and fell to a whisper.

 

Crossing his arms so it didn't look like he cared, but too curious not to know, Mohinder asked, “Your father had the same power?”

 

“Similar.” Sylar wrapped his arms around himself and looked away. Mohinder wanted to reach out to him but stood his angry high ground. “He could take other powers, yes, but he was a hunter.” He laughed, dry and angry. “If you could call him that. His power came from being able to lull his prey into a sense of calm complacency. Easier to kill. Humans, animals, he killed by making them helpless. And he stole powers after he killed, yes. He tried to steal mine.”

 

“Your aptitude?”

 

“I would assume so. I don't know if everything I can do could be transferred. He's the only one that's tried to take anything from me.”

 

Mohinder was quiet for a moment, breathing and calming down. He stuck his hands in his pockets, slightly more open than crossing them, but still guarded. “Are you thinking … could this be your father?”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I don't think so. I left him near death.” He finally made eye contact again. “It wasn't me. He had cancer.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

Mohinder heaved a sigh and felt his fresh anger dissipate. He stroked down Sylar's arm and held his hand when he unraveled them. He spoke slowly, unsure. “What if … he had another son?”

 

“I've thought of that. Could be younger or older, I guess, it's not like he kept _me_ around.”

 

“Sylar.” Mohinder caught his eyes and stood on his toes to graze a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “You need to stop blaming yourself.”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I didn't do this.”

 

“ _None_ off this is your fault. But you're carrying the weight like it is. You're going to drive yourself mad.”

 

“It'll be a short drive, at least.”

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“I'm seriously considering sending you back. I'll finish this on my own.”

 

Mohinder wouldn't allow that. “I'm coming with you. We'll figure this out. We'll come up with a plan and catch him, stop him. Whomever it is.”

 

Sylar searched his eyes. He slowly nodded and walked Mohinder from the closet. Back on the bustling nighttime street, he asked again, “What did he do to you?”

 

“Besides freezing me? He just talked. He threatened me.” An idea struck and he turned to Sylar. “Do you have any angry exes?”

 

“What?” he looked at Mohinder and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No.”

 

“Hmm. You sure? How about Jersey boy, he may want to snuff me to get back to you?” He smiled as he spoke but it was a hollow expression.

 

Sylar grunted a laugh. “God no. Luke couldn't do that.”

 

“Are you sure? He was evolved?”

 

“Yes, I'm sure. Yes, he is evolved. But he has, um, light radioactivity, I guess, like a microwave.”

 

“Hmm. Probably not the one then. Anyone else?”

 

“No.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Sylar kicked a pebble down the street. “Positive. Other guy had the power of suggestion.”

 

Mohinder perked up. “Oh, is that where you picked it up?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Wow. Do you take all your exes’ powers?”

 

“I don't have any ‘exes’,” Sylar blushed.

 

“None? No relationships?” Sylar didn't answer so Mohinder took that as a silent confirmation.

 

“I have three powers from people I've slept with, yes.” He wouldn't make eye contact. “Already radioactive, didn't need to take that again.”

 

Mohinder was too nosy for his own good. “What else?”

 

Sylar held up his hand and it crackled with lightning.

 

“You slept with Elle?” Mohinder’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “How was that?”

 

Sylar turned to him. “Misguided,” he spit out. “And I got the ability to read desires through a woman with the ability.”

 

“So you've slept with women?”

 

“A couple.”

 

“And with men?”

 

“A couple.”

 

“So, are you gay, or -”

 

“Yes, Mohinder,” he interrupted. “How is this important? Why are you asking me these stupid questions?”

 

“I got distracted, sorry. The man, he said he was going to get you back.”

 

“Not like revenge?” They reached the car and stood at the hood, not sure who was going to drive the first leg.

 

“No. He said you would come back if he splattered me across the room, if you found me dead. He wants you to go back to how you were, before I … before I seduced you. Before I tamed you.”

 

“One, I'm not ‘tamed’, two, that would be a _long_ time ago, then.” He flushed and continued, “Is that all? He didn’t say anything else?”

 

Mohinder fiddled with the keys and got in the driver's door. He started the car when Sylar got in. “When I first froze, I thought it could have been you. I said your name - both your names. He got mad, said ‘Gabriel’ was a dead name.”

 

Sylar was quiet so he looked over. He was staring out the windshield. “I thought I could never use my name again. That I had done too much to go back.” He turned and placed his hand on Mohinder’s knee. “Why do you keep calling me my name?”

 

Mohinder thought for a moment. “Because,” he started slowly, wrapping his hand around Sylar's, “You're more than what you've done. You're more than Sylar.”

 

“I never thought of it as _more.”_

 

“Maybe you should.”


	38. Chapter 38

“This is  _ not _ how I saw tonight going,” Sylar muttered under the hood. He had his phone floating by his head, flashlight on, illuminating the engine. Mohinder stood next to him feeling unless. Sylar had explained the problem and while Mohinder was aces with biology, not so much with machines. 

 

“Can I use your phone?” Mohinder dug it from his pocket and Sylar nodded thanks, turning its flashlight on and floating it to the other side to cancel out his shadow across the engine block. He moved some hoses out of the way with ink stained fingers. 

 

“Need the tool kit?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Mohinder dug the unopened kit from the trunk and brought it over. Sylar looked at it and laughed. 

 

“What? I got what you asked for, I didn't even get the cheapest one!”

 

Still laughing, Sylar turned and leaned on the grill. “Mohinder. You know your car's Swedish, yeah?”

 

“I thought it was German, but okay …?”

 

“You got metric sockets, not standard. You goof,” he grinned. 

 

Mohinder opened his mouth to argue but shut it. He sighed. “How big a deal is it?”

 

Sylar shrugged, still smiling. “They're just a little wrong, I'll make do. Thanks for getting the set with wrenches, too, that'll help.”

 

Mohinder crossed his arms, matching his crossed attitude. “Do you even know what you're doing?”

 

“I will in a couple minutes.” He grabbed his phone from the air and started searching for answers. “This can't be much different from watch repair.”

 

Mohinder looked at the engine, then at him, with an incredulous look. He humphed and walked away. He felt useless and it was eating at him. It was well past midnight and they had last seen a city an hour ago. The Arizona night was still and warm and suffocating. 

 

“Can I help you with  _ anything _ ?” he asked from around the car. 

 

“Nope, I think I've got it now.” A couple YouTube videos and he thought he was an expert. Mohinder honestly figured he was close, but wouldn't admit it. Engine trouble was just the cherry on his day, damnit.

 

He kicked a rock straddling the edge of the asphalt and dirt. It sailed into the darkness. 

 

He couldn't leave but he was wired too tight to stand and wait. 

 

“Mohinder, could you come here?” 

 

He sighed and went to Sylar's side. “Could you hold the light?” Sylar asked. 

 

He looked at the phones shining bright around Sylar's head, held in perfect place with telekinesis, and grumbled, “Looks like you have that under control.”

 

“I could use one bouncing around as you mope and pout.” His voice was light and cheerful, making Mohinder more upset. 

 

“I'm not moping,” he crossed his arms and pouted at the thought. Sylar rolled his face toward him and smiled wide. 

 

“Could have fooled me. Why are you so pissy?”

 

“I have every fucking right to be pissy, today has gone to hell!”

 

“Hmm, it started out pretty good, though.” Sylar stood and looked Mohinder over. 

 

Mohinder grunted and ignored him. Sylar looked down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“And say what?”

 

“Whatever you're feeling. Unload on me.”

 

Mohinder continued to hide behind his arms and his anger. “How are you so blasé about everything? This guy is out there, hunting people, killing people, he had  _ me _ today, and you're playing mechanic? Like none of this is touching you. If you don't care, why the hell are you here? Why the hell am  _ I _ here?”

 

Sylar shuffled his foot in the dirt. “I do care. I care about everyone this asshole comes across, everyone he kills. And god _ damn _ it I care about you. If he had … Mohinder, if he had hurt you, I don't know what I'd have done.” He laughed, sounding manic. “I'd probably have done just what he wanted.”

 

Mohinder held his silence. 

 

Sylar shook his arms out and breathed deep, regaining control. He whispered, “I'm so sorry I brought you here.”

 

“You didn't know.”

 

“I knew enough. I knew there was a reason he was circling New York. I didn't know …”

 

With a sigh, Mohinder dropped his arms. “You  _ didn't _ know. Stop blaming yourself.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Nothing happened today. We just need to get back on the road soon, so nothing else will. Are you sure you can do that now?”

 

“Actually, this is pretty dumb to be doing in the dark. Why don't we call a cab, go to the nearest motel for the night?”

 

“That's a waste of time, we'll just stay in the car.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Mohinder stomped back around the car and laid the backseat down. He unfolded the thrifted blanket and sat in the trunk with the hatch open. He heard Sylar close the hood and root around the front seat. 

 

He brought the shopping bag of snacks around with him and handed Mohinder a box of crackers. 

 

“I'm not hungry.”

 

“Really? ‘Cause you get pissy when you're hungry.” Sylar shook the box and Mohinder took it, exasperated. He ate a couple to appease him and found he actually was hungry. 

 

Sylar sat next to him and grinned. Mohinder glared. Sylar held up a hand, “I'm not saying anything.”

 

They looked out into the quiet night, alone on the road. The moon was full and bright and there were more stars than Mohinder could remember ever in the New York sky. 

 

“It's beautiful,” Sylar said quietly, again giving Mohinder the impression he could read minds. 

 

“It's okay, for a scorpion infested wilderness,” Mohinder answered, smiling as Sylar warily tucked his feet up into the car. 

 

“I thought I'd never leave New York,” Sylar said, tucking his knees into the circle of his arms. “I didn't know I'd love waking up and falling asleep in different places each day. Or living out of a  _ bag _ .”

 

“It's a feeling that never really gets old,” Mohinder agreed. He was feeling a little more human after snacking. He dug in the bag for a warm should-be-iced tea and grimaced. 

 

“Here,” Sylar wrapped his hand around it, fingers laced between Mohinder’s. Mohinder felt the bottle grow frosty under their hands. 

 

“Wow,” he said as Sylar slowly dragged his hand away. “You're a handy guy to keep on a roadtrip.” Sylar grinned and placed his hand high on Mohinder’s thigh. “And a pretty handsy guy, too.”

 

“I can't help it. You're irresistible.” A flush crossed high on his cheekbones. 

 

“You're rediculous.” Mohinder drank and toyed with the bottle in his hands. “Sorry I was an asshole.”

 

“All is forgiven.” Sylar turned his face to look at the sky. His skin glowed under the moon. Mohinder’s chest felt tight.

 

He leaned in and pecked the corner of his mouth. Sylar's grip tightened on his leg.

 

“What was that for?”

 

A million reasons rattled in Mohinder’s mind, but he chose one that had been resting heavy on him as they sat together in the car for days. “I wanted to do that. When we first met.” Sylar's eyes held his. “I didn't know if it would be okay. I still don't know,” he finished, breathless. 

 

“Oh, honey,” Sylar cradled his face in one large palm. “It's okay.” He brought Mohinder close and kissed him gently. “It's so much more than okay.” He kissed him again, full lips soft on his own, and Mohinder sighed. 

 

“Close the hatch,” Mohinder said, scooting back along the blanket. Without removing his hands from his face, Sylar did. 

 

He followed Mohinder back on his knees. “I promised you anything you wanted,” he whispered. 

 

Mohinder nodded and motioned him over. He laid down slowly, Sylar kneeling over him. He draped his hands over Sylar's shoulders, pulling him down to lay on top of him. He guided Sylar's head to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken as Sylar's ear pressed over it. Sylar slowly relaxed against him. 

 

Quietly, Mohinder asked, “Could you listen for me? Please?”

 

“Yes.” Sylar's answer was strong in the dark. He pressed his hand to Mohinder’s chest and curled around his body in a comfortable embrace. “Yes,” he said, and Mohinder stroked his hand through Sylar's hair until he fell asleep under the weight of his body. 

  
  
  
  
  


He woke slowly, grasping around him for Sylar. A gentle breeze rolled through the car, the front windows still rolled down from their drive. 

 

Opening his eyes, he saw he was alone. He heard gentle metal on metal clangs and felt the car wiggle enough to know where Sylar had gone. 

 

He crawled out the back door and stretched, watching the first rays of sun peek over the horizon. It was already warm; Mohinder’s clothes felt sticky. 

 

Sylar was deep under the hood when Mohinder walked around. “Good morning,” came his muffled greeting. 

 

Mohinder hummed and kissed up his back. “I didn't think I'd wake up alone today.”

 

Sylar stood, stretching his shoulders. “Sorry, I wanted to get a head start.”

 

He looked over the engine and all its perplexing parts. “Is it almost done?”

 

Sylar nodded. His eyes roved over Mohinder’s body. “I'm kind of jealous, you don't even need a bed for wild bedhead,” he teased. 

 

“No, you have no reason to be jealous,” he said, reaching up to flatten Sylar's hair where it was sticking up from sleeping against him. 

 

“Is it crazy?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Mohinder pulled a face as the half gelled strands fought him. 

 

“Get it,” Sylar mumbled and Mohinder looked down from his hair to his eyes. Sylar was watching him under thick eyelashes and smiling a little secret smile. 

 

Mohinder returned the look and Sylar grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in to a kiss. Mohinder raked his fingers over Sylar's scalp and ran his tongue around his mouth. He sighed as Sylar kissed over his cheek and nuzzled in his hair. “Mmm. Good morning.”

 

Mohinder kissed along Sylar's jawline, the rough feeling of stubble under his lips raising goosebumps up his arms. He traced his hands down his neck and held him close.

 

Sylar continued to kiss his face and Mohinder closed his eyes, leaning into the touches. When Sylar pulled back, he couldn't read the look in his eyes. 

 

Mohinder looked away as the unspoken tension grew between them. He felt Sylar unclench his shirt as he cleared his throat gently. “Could you start the car?”

 

“Mmhmm.” On impulse, he tilted Sylar's face back down and kissed him chastely, standing on the balls of his feet to keep contact as Sylar pulled away with a huff.

 

He pouted and Sylar rolled his eyes. “Go.”

 

It was Mohinder’s turn to roll his eyes as he spun on his heel to start the car as requested. As he sat in the driver's seat, he caught Sylar staring after him with the same indecipherable look. 

 

Sylar slapped the nose of the car twice to signal he was ready and Mohinder turned the key. The car started immediately; the horrible rattling that had started on the road had stopped, and the engine didn't bang as he tapped the gas. 

 

“Well, damn,” he mumbled, looking down to scoot closer to the gas pedal. He caught sight of his shirt with a huge black handprint on the front. “Damnit, Sylar!”

 

He got out of the car with it still running and unbuttoned his shirt and thrust it at Sylar, revving the engine manually with his filthy hand on the carburetor. He looked up and caught the shirt. Slowly raking his eyes over Mohinder in his jeans and undershirt, he breathed, “Hello.”

 

“Asshole. Your grabby hands just earned you a rag,” he motioned to the brightly patterned fabric balled in Sylar's hands, greasy fingerprints obvious.  

 

“Oh.” He grinned, eyes flashing wickedly. “If I touch that shirt, will you take it off, too?”

 

“Ugh, you're driving me insane.” He stepped into Sylar's space. “Do  _ not _ touch me,” he breathed against his lips, not quite touching him. Sylar leaned forward to kiss him but he pulled back. “Don't.”

 

Sylar sat against the grill, engine purring behind him. He raised his hands in defeat and sucked in a wavering breath as Mohinder ran his fingers gently up his thighs. He mouthed Sylar's jaw and kissed under his ear. 

 

Sylar's hands hovered over his shoulders. Mohinder could see him ache to close the distance. He smirked and cradled his face between his hands, pushing him back over the engine and kissing his neck. Sylar's muscles clenched tight under him to stay upright.

 

Mohinder sucked a bruise under Sylar's chin, biting at the hot, tender skin and feeling Sylar's moan rumble under his ministerations. He ran his hands over Sylar's waist and tucked his fingers into the waistband of his jeans, digging into his skin. 

 

“Fuck, Mohinder. That hurts.” The strain in his voice didn't sound like pain though. 

 

“Want me to stop?” he asked around his teeth holding Sylar's skin. 

 

“Don't you dare,” he growled, fingers grasping helplessly at the car. 

 

Mohinder moaned and licked at the bite marks he had left, tilting his head back to see them, red against Sylar's pale skin. 

 

As he watched, the angry bruise he had left darkened to purple and started fading in an ugly yellow and back to flawless skin. 

 

He held Sylar's back, letting him relax into his arms. “How wrong is it I want to hurt you and watch you heal?”

 

Sylar bucked against him, gasping, “I would expect it.” Mohinder kissed him hard and Sylar trapped him with clean elbows around his head. He nibbled Mohinder’s bottom lip, licking at it as it swelled. “I want it.”

 

Mohinder turned his head. “Is that why me?” He nuzzled Sylar's bicep, edging his sleeve out of the way to get at skin. 

 

“No.”

 

Mohinder wanted to press on, he wanted to know why so bad, but the engine was getting very hot idling under them and they had to get moving soon. He scraped his teeth gently along Sylar's arm, the taut muscles twitching under him making his head swim with lust. 

 

“We should go,” he muttered. Sylar groaned. He twined his arms behind Mohinder’s head, reluctance clear across his face. “Sylar.”

 

Sylar tilted his head back and Mohinder kissed over his chin, rough with stubble. “We should go,” he repeated. He broke out of Sylar's hold and dragged him up behind him. “How far do you think the next town is?”

 

“Half an hour. I checked the map before you woke up.”

 

Mohinder nodded and righted his clothes. “Good.”

 

“Got somewhere to be?” Sylar grinned, dirty hands out to his sides and clothes rumpled. Mohinder’s mouth watered looking at him.

 

He shrugged it off. “Have to go. Don't want to use the side of the highway.”

 

Sylar smiled crookedly. “Gotta do what you gotta. Won't kill you.”

 

Mohinder thought of Sylar exposed on the highway predawn and his cock twitched. He bit his lip and Sylar gave him a suspicious look. “So you'd offer to let me fuck you on the side of the road but you won't take care of your own damn bladder.”

 

“Yeah. Some things are private.”

 

“Sex isn't one of those things?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

 

Mohinder thought about it. “Knowing I can get you to drop your prissy perfectionism and focus just on  _ me _ isn’t one of those things.”

 

Sylar leaned toward him and breathed in his ear before walking by, “Sometimes I forget how greedy you are, Doctor.” He flashed him a smile and got behind the wheel. 

 

Mohinder blinked and followed. Sylar was wiping his hands off on the discarded shirt. He turned and looked Mohinder over with a smile, curling the fabric over each of his fingers to clean them. 

 

“Go,” Mohinder ordered, waving his hands impatiently. 

 

“Oh, now you're in a hurry. Just do your thing, I'll wait.” He turned back to his hands. “Do you need help?” he asked slyly.

 

Mohinder sighed. “Just drive, please.”

 

“Mmm,” Sylar hummed and merged back on the road. The traffic was light in the early morning hour. 

 

Mohinder looked out the window at the rolling nothing of Arizona landscape. “Thanks for fixing the car.”

 

“Of course. It's a good machine.” He fiddled with the CD player, Cat Stevens playing softly in the background. 

 

“Yeah, I'm kind of surprised.”

 

Sylar ran his hand over the dash, smiling. “So this particular power is actually really hard to use; if I read an object's history, I can't focus on what I want to know, it all just rushes at once.” Mohinder turned to listen. “I need to use it more. Want to know your car's history?”

 

Mohinder shrugged when he glanced over. 

 

Sylar kept his hand on the dash and an eye on the road. He swerved around a small pothole and Mohinder silently thanked him from the bottom of his bladder. 

 

“You're the second owner. The first guy had just started his family, he drove his pregnant wife to the hospital before labor. He was freaked out,” he smiled. Mohinder watched silently as he shuffled through memories, searching. “He was a backyard mechanic. Drank beer and wrenched around. Had another kid. Took family vacations.” He looked up at Mohinder wearing a sour smile. “Always wondered what that would be like.”

 

Mohinder placed his hand over his on the dash. “You're not stuck with your past - you make your future.”

 

Sylar looked forlorn as he said, “I always wanted a family.”

 

“A - a husband, two point five kids, a dog and a picket fence?”

 

Sylar laughed. “I'm not set on the equation. Just - someday. I know it's not what everyone wants,” he raised his brow at Mohinder. 

 

“I never had a plan, a goal.” He shrugged. “Was engaged for a while,” he grimaced. 

 

“I thought you had ‘never thought about marriage’?” he glared. 

 

“It wasn't my choice, it just kind of happened.”

 

“Like … arranged?” Sylar questioned. 

 

“No,” Sylar shook his head. “But between the girl and my mother, it was decided. I was just in the middle.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I came back to New York. I was … called back. It didn't feel right, staying in India. I was supposed to come back here,” he trailed off. He pled, “Please don't say anything about destiny.”

 

Sylar turned his hand and held Mohinder’s tight. “I won't.” He kissed the back of Mohinder’s hand. “I'm glad you came back.”

 

“My life is here. Gods, I could have had an easy life in India. A teaching job at any university, a wife at home, away from all this.”

 

“But now you have  _ all _ this.”

 

He nodded. “I - I have a daughter. Adopted with an almost stranger. Hell, I'm an almost stranger, I haven't seen her in so long.” Sylar stroked the back of his hand, rolling soothing touches over his bones and tendons; he felt his own fragility in Sylar's hand. Every piece of his past, every piece of himself he handed over, he felt fragile. But Sylar never moved to break him. 

 

“I'm so glad she has you,” he said, the emotion in his voice hitting Mohinder hard in the gut. “I - it's one of the things I like most about you. Your heart is so big.”

 

“It's not. I'm scared. I'm selfish, you're right, I'm greedy, I'm impulsive and stupid and I've hurt people.”

 

“You're human,” Sylar interjected. 

 

“I've killed people!” He swallowed and wished he could take back his words. 

 

Sylar hardly flinched. “Welcome to the club.”

 

“That's not what I  -”

 

“You're human,” Sylar repeated forcefully. “All you can do is take your mistakes and  _ learn _ from them. And you only have so much time to do that.” His voice hit a quiet forlorn note that stopped Mohinder’s attitude.

 

“I can see the man who owned this car, I can  _ feel _ him, who he was behind his actions. I can do the same with the current owner,” he shook Mohinder’s hand, “I can feel  _ you _ .” Mohinder turned away. “I can feel behind your walls. I can feel  _ you _ .”

 

“Stop please,” Mohinder whispered. 

 

“You're trying to hide. From me? From yourself? From fucking  _ destiny _ ? Why deny any of that?”

 

“Because I'm scared!”

 

Sylar grit his teeth. “For a smart guy, sometimes you're a fucking idiot.”


	39. Chapter 39

They drove straight through into Utah without talking. Mohinder took over driving after taking an uncomfortable nap. He stretched the crick in his neck for about the hundredth time but it stayed stiff. 

 

“Wait, stop the car,” Sylar said quietly. Mohinder jumped - he thought he was asleep against the window. He had just gone off the freeway to stretch and gas up. 

 

Sylar pointed outside. “Go to this park.” He turned to Mohinder. “Please.”

 

Mohinder put the car in reverse on the empty street and stopped at the side of the park. The warm spring air surrounded him when he got out of the car and he followed Sylar across the grass. 

 

Sylar crossed a dirt trail and kept beelining toward something. Mohinder held back and watched him walk. Time had cleared his head since their last conversation and he knew Sylar had not been in the wrong. He wasn't looking forward to talking about it, though. 

 

They walked through a clearing by a creek and Sylar slowed his pace, stopping at a large downed tree, burnt and naked on the ground. 

 

Sylar slowly reached out to touch the wood, hard with age. Mohinder watched him close his eyes and touch the tree with both hands, barely breathing. 

 

He leaned against the cool wood and watched Sylar, head cocked, looking like he was listening to the tree. 

 

“Oh,” he looked up. “This was one of us.”

 

Mohinder crossed his arms. “An evo?” 

 

“Yes. A long time ago.” His voice was dreamy and distant. 

 

“What do you see?”

 

Sylar's hand slid down the trunk and his eyes slid far away. “So much more than I have before.” His face screwed up in concentration. “There's so much, I'm trying to find it.”

 

Mohinder watched, fascinated by the power.

 

Slowly, Sylar's face relaxed and he spoke. “I can  _ feel _ her, she's so scared, she's been running for so long. There are people after her, she's going to be overrun. I don't know how she's running, her bodice -” he grabbed his ribs and wheezed, “It's so tight. She's burning up.”

 

Mohinder watched him shiver and flinch from the blacked tree. “She struck the tree with lightning. It blocked the path she ran.”

 

“I hope she got away.” Mohinder felt silly for worrying about someone's fate decided long ago, but Sylar's description made the mystery evo feel viscerally present.

 

Sylar smiled, crooked and cold. “I feel like maybe she deserved whatever they were going to dole out to her.”

 

“That's not fair. You don't know that, you don't know more than a moment's time. You have no idea what she was being chased for,” Mohinder argued. 

 

“I know under the fear, she felt giddy, so happy to have done something she shouldn't have. I know the rush of power flowing through her wasn't just that which made her special. She used people, she hurt people, she manipulated them for her gain. And under all that, I know the guilt she felt in her very bones but denied consciously because it got in her way.” Sylar looked hard at Mohinder. “I saw this, I know this. It's a  _ very _ familiar feeling,” he growled. He clasped and loosened his hands in fists repeatedly. “I haven't felt all that in some time, now.”

 

Mohinder looked at him, body tense in a way he hadn't been the whole time since he had walked into the bodega in New York. He looked like he was fighting something. 

 

“Sylar?” Mohinder touched his elbow. He got no response so he hazarded, “Gabriel.”

 

Sylar shivered and Mohinder could see him shake the tension from his jaw down to his legs. He stood easier and breathed deeper. 

 

Sylar shook his head. “I’m fine. I'm fine, Mohinder. God, that was fucking - I don't know.” He cracked his neck. “That was a fucking power trip. I could  _ feel _ her power with my body, every bit of it.”

 

“What does that feel like?” Mohinder asked with genuine curiosity. 

 

Sylar winked. “Like any other power trip. Just a little more … electric.” He raised his hands as pale blue lightning danced in sparks around his fingers. 

 

Mohinder’s eyes shot wide open.

 

Sylar looked at him and tilted his head, grinning. “I know you like being in control. I know you like the feeling you get when someone else is weak around you, compared to you … under you.” Sylar's voice dropped and he leaned closer to Mohinder, hand raising dangerously close to his face with sparks still crackling. “I see the look you get when you have the upper hand. I have always seen that look. It’s beautiful.” Mohinder could feel his skin tighten with the lightning’s heat and his hair pulled toward the static. His lungs felt too small. 

 

“That's the exact feeling that made it so hard to give up playing the villain. That power over people, that rush, the feeling I was above everyone else.” He sighed. “It was the best thing I had ever felt then. It was so hard to let go.”

 

“But you did.”

 

Sylar nodded. “Sometimes I feel I traded one addiction for another.”

 

Mohinder tilted his head. “What?”

 

Sylar smiled, this time warmly, and the electricity stopped crackling through his fingers. He ran his hand down Mohinder’s cheek. Mohinder sighed as Sylar pushed his shoulder, backing him into the tree trunk, his heart skipping a beat as dark eyes poured into his. Sylar licked his lips and tilted his head, shutting his eyes just as his lips hit Mohinder’s. 

 

Sylar's lips were soft and his touch light as he kissed, his hands a gentle pressure on Mohinder’s shoulders. 

 

He gasped as Sylar sucked his bottom lip, so gently. Mohinder ran his tongue over the seam of Sylar's lips but was not granted entry. 

 

The gentle touches were unexpected after his electric teasing and it made Mohinder’s head spin. He wrapped his hands around Sylar's waist and pulled, but Sylar had planted his feet and was keeping a respectful distance between them. 

 

He could force him closer using his strength but he just tugged insistently at Sylar's body, telling him where he was wanted. 

 

Sylar had his own ideas and slowly tilted his head to the other side, finally allowing Mohinder access in his mouth. 

 

Mohinder moaned as Sylar's tongue circled with his and inadvertently allowed Sylar to control their tempo still as he himself was distracted with sensation.

 

Sylar kept their kisses slow, soft brushes of lips and tongue. His hands traced up the curve of Mohinder’s neck and laced in his hair; Mohinder braced himself, anticipating tugging, but none came. Sylar stroked his fingers on Mohinder’s scalp and held him in place with his thumbs under his jaw. 

 

Mohinder brushed his hands up Sylar's shirt and over his bare skin and scratched his nails down his back. 

 

He heard children playing in the distance, across the park by the sound of it. If Sylar was going to fuck him against the burnt tree, he had better hurry. 

 

Sylar groaned as Mohinder’s nails dragged over his skin, the first noise he had made since their lips met. His hands tightened and Mohinder stopped breathing but Sylar loosened his grip immediately. 

 

Mohinder could hear the man's ragged breath in the silence. He exhaled in a sigh and arched off the bark, leaning toward Sylar's tall frame. Their chests brushed and Sylar moved one hand between them and pushed him slowly back against the tree. 

 

Mohinder whined and thrust his hips forward instead. Sylar's teasing had him hard and ready. 

 

Sylar took a step back and bent to kiss Mohinder’s neck with light sucking touches. 

 

Mohinder raised his arms to the tree over his head and moaned again. He braced his shoulders and wrapped a leg around Sylar's, rubbing up and down his calf. 

 

He wanted more than Sylar was giving him; demanding touches, less clothing, and a hard fast fuck. 

 

He was given tender kisses and gentle caresses and fast shallow breaths, the only sign Sylar was affected at all. 

 

A quick glance down Sylar's body disproved that. He was definitely as affected as Mohinder was.

 

Why was he holding back? 

 

“Sylar, please,” Mohinder breathed. He arched his back again and rolled his hips as Sylar opened his eyes. 

 

A soft “Oh” left Sylar's mouth unconsciously. He bit his lip and curled the fingers on Mohinder’s chest into his shirt. His other hand cupped Mohinder’s cheek and he kissed him again and again, slow wet torturous drags. 

 

Mohinder grabbed the back of his shirt neck and held tight. He pulled him close and kissed him hard. 

 

Sylar turned his head and nuzzled under Mohinder’s chin. His voice was rough as he asked, “What's your rush?”

 

Instead of answering, Mohinder pressed close again, Sylar's gasp making him feel heady and high as he rubbed their hard cocks together.

 

“Ugh, Mohinder,” Sylar purred. He kissed Mohinder’s neck, sucking lightly. “We're in public, baby.”

 

“Don't care.” And he didn't. 

 

Sylar hummed. “You are too much.” He kissed him once more, lingering as he pulled away. 

 

Mohinder melted against the tree, looking at him through heavy eyes. He felt a mess. 

 

Sylar smiled, slightly predatory. “I guess I haven't kicked the power thing all the way yet. Seeing you like this -  _ feeling _ you lose control - because of me?  _ That's _ the best thing I've ever felt.”

 

“Fuck.” Mohinder felt his face flush. “You traded power for  _ me _ .”

 

“I traded power for the chance to not be alone. I took a chance for what I'd wanted so long. I'd take that chance again, and again, and again for this.” He curled his fingers in Mohinder’s shirt and kissed him deep and long. 

 

Mohinder moaned, emotions warring. He wanted Sylar so bad! But the fact that it was  _ Sylar _ kept haunting the back of his mind. Being reminded of his thirst for power and control had brought turmoil back to his thoughts. 

 

But Sylar wanted him. Sylar wanted  _ him _ . Sylar had changed his life, changed who he had become, just for a chance with Mohinder. And he had thrown himself at Sylar the first chance he had. 

 

He was so fucked up. 

 

He moaned and held Sylar tight to his body. 

 

He was so fucked. 

  
  



	40. Chapter 40

They didn't stop for the night until they reached Idaho Falls. Sylar roused Mohinder from his light sleep and led him to the elevator and up to their room. 

 

“I'm taking a shower,” Mohinder said as he toed his shoes off. 

 

“Okay.” Sylar set their bags down on the table under the window. “I'll get us dinner from the restaurant downstairs.”

 

Mohinder huffed, his invitation obviously not received. He caught Sylar as he passed and swung against him with an arm around his neck. He pressed his hand to Sylar's chest and their lips together. Sylar sighed, running his hand along the width of Mohinder’s shoulders. 

 

Sylar pushed Mohinder down on the bed and straddled his legs. He pressed a hard kiss to Mohinder’s gasping lips as he sat up against him.

 

Mohinder wrapped his hands around Sylar's ass and pulled him closer. Sylar moaned around his tongue. His hands curled over Mohinder’s shoulders as he pulled himself up, leaning over him as they kissed. 

 

“Mmm, I guess dinner can wait,” he mumbled against Mohinder’s lips. 

 

“Yeah.” Mohinder rolled them over and knelt over Sylar. “Scoot,” he ordered him up the bed. Sylar edged up the bed to sit against the pillows and blinked wide eyes at Mohinder following after him on his knees. 

 

His eyes darted over Mohinder’s body and lingered on his face; Sylar's expression was a distant kind of sad, warring with the lust burning in his eyes. Mohinder couldn't read it, could never read that look. 

 

“Why do you look at me like that?” Mohinder asked. Sylar bit his lip and looked down. Mohinder took his face between his hands and made him look up. “Why?”

 

Sylar's voice cracked. “Because I feel like I'm going to wake up and this will be gone. Like I've been dreaming again.” His eyes were so sad. “I can't stand to lose you.”

 

He gripped Mohinder’s shirt in tight fists. “Mohinder, you mean so much to me,” he bent to rest his head on his chest. 

 

Mohinder’s hands threaded through the short hairs on the back of his head and his stomach clenched. “Sylar -”

 

He looked up at his name and Mohinder caught his lips in a kiss. Sylar moaned against him. 

 

“This isn't a dream,” Mohinder whispered against his lips. “This is you, and this is me,” he slipped his hands under Sylar's shirt and pulled it off. He ran his hands down Sylar's back as they kissed. 

 

He wanted to assure him it  _ was _ real, but he wasn't sure himself what they really were, what their entanglement really meant. Sylar opened his mouth to speak and Mohinder slammed his thought back in with his own mouth. 

 

Talking was too much. Words would bring a reality to their actions and Mohinder was not prepared for that. 

 

So he shut Sylar up with his lips and his hands and his body. He caressed up Sylar's sides and brushed over his nipples, stopping his hands in the center of his chest to push. 

 

Sylar's mouth fell open as he collapsed on the pillows, Mohinder’s weight holding him down. “Mohinder, yes,” he signed, one hand curling around the headboard to pull himself up against Mohinder’s kisses, the other tangling in Mohinder’s hair and guiding him over chest, up neck, and back to lips. “I want you,” he whispered against Mohinder’s lips. “Is that...? Would you?”

 

“Would I what?” Mohinder asked as he scraped his teeth over the joint of Sylar's neck and torso. 

 

Sylar thrust against him with a great heaved gasp. Mohinder heard rustling behind him but couldn't turn to look with Sylar's hands holding him flush to his neck. 

 

Sylar released his grip and Mohinder stretched to kiss him, sucking softly on his lip. He could feel how hard Sylar was under his hips.  

 

Pulling back from Mohinder’s ministerations, Sylar pressed something cold in the palm of his hand. Mohinder pulled away to see the tube of lubrication and back to Sylar's face, all wary eyes and bitten lip. 

 

Mohinder’s eyes widened as he realized what Sylar was asking. 

 

“If you want,” Sylar said, barely a breath. “I want you to.”

 

Mohinder stared down at him, seeing him nervous for perhaps the first time ever. Seeing the plea across his face. He nodded and grinned as Sylar's face broke into a beaming smile. 

 

“I want  _ you _ ,” Mohinder whispered back. He felt Sylar breathe his name against his lips as he kissed him. He pulled the hem of Mohinder’s shirt up with desperation. Mohinder grinned wider and sat up until his fingertips were barely still able to press Sylar down. He was using his strength and watched Sylar's efforts to sit up end in futility. He bit his lip as his breathing kicked up a notch. 

 

“Told you.” Sylar stretched his arms up to Mohinder’s shoulders and gently scratched his nails down. “You  _ like _ being in control.”

 

“Of you.” He watched a shiver run down Sylar's body. 

 

“Control me, then.”

 

Mohinder felt his own tenuous control slip with the wanton words. 

 

Sylar continued, asking, “How do you want me?”

 

Mohinder shivered. “Naked. Naked now.” He hurried to unbutton Sylar's jeans. 

 

“Not one hundred percent what I mean, but I do appreciate your honesty,” he said with a cocky half smile, lifting his hips as Mohinder dragged his pants off. 

 

Mohinder bent to lick a wet trace of Sylar's hipbone and he shut right up. His hands scrabbled at the sheets while Mohinder mouthed down his hip as he slid his underwear down. 

 

Sylar grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up. When they met eyes, Sylar's bravado was gone, his face shy again. He pressed a condom into Mohinder’s hand. 

 

“If you want. I'm - I'm clean, I don't think I could catch anything anyway, but.”

 

Mohinder sat back and looked at the foil in his hand. “My last tests were negative.” He looked at Sylar, biting his lip. His arms were loose at his sides, legs tense under Mohinder’s. His boxers were pulled low, the base of his cock a tease peeking from under the fabric. Mohinder tossed the condom to the side and Sylar groaned. 

 

“Baby, please,” he keened as Mohinder kissed the base of his cock, feeling it jump against his chin as he worked his underwear off. “ _ Mohinder _ .”

 

“What do you want?” His breath caught between his face and Sylar's body. He kissed up to his navel, running his tongue along the edge. “Sylar, what do you want?”

 

Sylar pulled Mohinder up against him, face to face. He pulled his legs out from under Mohinder’s hips and spread them around him. “Give me your hand.” Mohinder did and Sylar kissed his palm and wrapped his tongue around his pointer finger. 

 

Mohinder stopped breathing as Sylar swallowed around his finger. Sylar pulled off with a pop and asked, “Have you done this before?”

 

Mohinder gave him a look. “No, you're my first.”

 

“Mmm, keep reminding me. I mean with a woman, dork. I don't know what you straight people do,” his voice was thin, betraying his nerves. 

 

“I think we threw ‘straight’ out the window a while ago. But no, to answer your question. I hope you know what you're doing.” He felt his nerves kick in, too. 

 

“Somewhat.” His fingers played with the bare skin of Mohinder’s stomach where his shirt was bunched up. 

 

Mohinder sat back and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He looked over the length of Sylar's body, seemingly more naked in contrast to Mohinder’s fully dressed state. 

 

Sylar's eyes followed the line of tan skin revealed by the parted shirt. Mohinder felt his cock swell more under Sylar's hungry stare. 

 

“Touch yourself,” Mohinder ordered. 

 

Sylar swallowed and rested his hands over his stomach. His cock stood stiff, pointing slightly to the side under its own weight. Sylar made no move for it. 

 

Mohinder finished unbuttoning his shirt and teased, “Don't get shy on me, now.”

 

Sylar gasped as he danced his fingers over his skin. His thighs clenched around Mohinder, muscles tight and hold strong, as his fingers inched lower. A flush had spread across his cheekbones and to his ears. 

 

Mohinder kneeled straight, up off his legs, dragging Sylar's squeezing thighs up after him. He leaned closer, feeling Sylar's grip tighten as he toyed with the button on his slacks. “Come on, now. Please?”

 

Sylar's long fingers curled around his length and he dropped his legs open, surrounding Mohinder loosly as he rolled his hips up. 

 

Hips up, hand down, cock thick and pink and caught between the two. 

 

Mohinder licked his lips and forgot about his fingers at his fly; he watched Sylar gasp as he rolled his thumb over his cockhead, precome smearing down his length with his strokes. 

 

“Please,” Sylar pled, eyes half closed in pleasure. “Mohinder, please.”

 

Mohinder choked. “Yes. Gods, yes, keep doing that, you're beautiful,” he praised as he hurriedly tore his fly open and pants to his bended knees. 

 

Sylar tilted his head back, “Jesus, I can't.” The tube of lube poked Mohinder in the arm awkwardly, floating in Sylar's power but he was obviously distracted. It poked him again and scraped over his arm as it kept moving. 

 

“Ow, watch it,” he said, grabbing it from the air. Sylar moved from under him, turning to his side and rolling up on hands and knees. “Hey,” Mohinder protested with a hand scratching down Sylar's arched back. “Where are you going?”

 

Sylar's reply was strained. “I can't look at you. I won't last.”

 

“Fuck. That bad, huh?”

 

“You have no idea.” He pressed his ass against Mohinder’s bare cock. His moan of pleasure died in a worried squeak when Mohinder grabbed his hips and thrust against him. “Fuck! You can't just go for it!”

 

Mohinder’s laugh was nervous and shaky. “I know that much!”

 

“Then don't scare me,” he ground back against Mohinder as he rocked, “I'm kind of - oh god yes - kind of vulnerable right now.”

 

“I know.” He rubbed his hands on Sylar's hips, soothing him as he considered the depth of his vulnerability. Everything Sylar had said to him, every glance he had surreptitiously taken and expression clearly written. “I know,” he repeated, deeper and slower as he massaged his hands up Sylar's spine. He leaned into Sylar's ear, “Tell me what to do.”

 

Sylar shivered and Mohinder grinned against his ear. He reached around and stroked down Sylar's cock with gentle fingertips. 

 

“Ooh, stop that.” Sylar thrust into the touch. 

 

“Then tell me where you want my hands.”

 

Sylar purred his name and rolled back against him hard. Mohinder let one hand continue dancing down Sylar's length, taking his own dick in the other and rubbing the tip down the crack of Sylar's ass. He circled Sylar's hole as he bent down onto the bed, hips raised as high as they would go. He pressed against Sylar's entrance and could barely bite back pleas and moans as Sylar's anus clenched under him. 

 

“One finger. Start with one, baby, and don't be shy with lube.” His hands clenched the sheets by his head. 

 

“Now that wasn't hard. Tell me when you want more.”

 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

 

Mohinder poured lubricant over two fingers, sliding them together and watching them break apart, a sticky string connecting them. He tilted his head and took long enough Sylar turned to look at him over his shoulder. Mohinder caught his eye. “How many can you take?”

 

Sylar's eyes darted to his wet fingers and back. “Fuck, I don't know, just - Mohinder, please!”

 

Biting the corner of his lip, Mohinder pressed his index finger to Sylar's anus and circled slowly until he pressed in. He gasped as Sylar pressed back against him. 

 

He threw his hips back hard, seating Mohinder's finger fully inside him. “‘m not going to break. Fuck Mohinder, move!”

 

“As you wish,” he breathed as he thrust his finger in and out, feeling the lube smear inside him. 

 

“More. More, more, another, please,” Sylar begged as he swayed back and forth.

 

Mohinder pulled his finger almost fully out and poured more lube over the two he slowly pushed back in. He was careful to curl his fingertips, wary of his nails. 

 

“Ooh, that's good. Turn your hand over.”

 

Mohinder did, feeling his fingers drag inside Sylar with wet friction. 

 

“Fuck yeah, harder.” Sylar pressed his face to the pillow and hollered as Mohinder turned his fingers again. “Mohinder, now, now, I want you now!”

 

“No. I'm not done.” He watched his fingers swallowed by pale flesh, stretched pink and tight. He felt Sylar clench around him and his movement slowed. “Sylar, you have to loosen up.”

 

“I know. I know,” he repeated. His muscle fluttered around Mohinder’s fingers but was still tight. 

 

Mohinder stroked a firm hand over Sylar's asscheek. Slowly, he asked, “Have  _ you _ done this before?”

 

Sylar gasped into the pillow and pushed back as Mohinder was able to work back in fully. He answered when prompted with a sharp squeeze of his ass: “Once.”

 

“What?”

 

“Once!”

 

“Oh.” He was a little shocked. “Okay. I'll go slower, then.”

 

“Oh don't you fucking dare.” Sylar rocked back against his hand but Mohinder held him in place. He thrust harder and slower, feeling Sylar's body give. 

 

Sylar rocked up to his elbows. “One more.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Sylar nodded and Mohinder slowly edged a third finger into him. He spread them, stretching Sylar's opening and watched him hang his head and gasp. He turned his palm toward the bed, fingers stretching. 

 

He felt for Sylar's prostate and stroked against it softly. Sylar wasn't able to control the moan that escaped his mouth, wavering in time with Mohinder’s careful, shallow thrusts. He didn't lose contact with the swollen gland and watched Sylar lose himself to pleasure. 

 

He wanted to kiss him. 

 

Kissing Sylar's back as high as he could reach meant snuggling their bodies together. Mohinder’s dick pressed against his thrusting hand and he moaned, hips jerking against Sylar. 

 

“Now. Please,” Sylar begged, running his foot down Mohinder’s leg, still caught in his pants. 

 

Mohinder spread his fingers as far as he could and felt Sylar loosen up, ready. He swallowed the lump in his throat and dragged his fingers out, wiggling them against Sylar's sensitive entrance. Sylar pushed back into the touch, gasping. 

 

Sylar moaned his name as Mohinder slicked his cock and rubbed it against his ass. He watched Sylar's muscles twitch and sighed, knowing he was too turned on to last long. He gripped the base of his cock hard, trying to stave off orgasm. 

 

His cock caught the swollen pucker of Sylar's hole and he gasped. He pulled his foreskin back and lined up, pushing gently with his hips. 

 

Sylar was silent as he entered; Mohinder stopped moving to let him adjust. He moaned as he felt Sylar twitch and clench around him. The noise kicked Sylar into gear, he pressed back against Mohinder’s hips, hissing as he took his whole length. 

 

Mohinder tried to caress his back and ass as he leaned back to watch his cock disappear but the sight set his nerves on fire and he clawed down Sylar's skin, abandoning niceties for need. 

 

“Oh god yes,” Sylar arched into his digging fingers. He reached behind him and grabbed Mohinder’s hip, pulling him forward roughly. “Oh!”

 

“Good?” Mohinder asked, voice like gravel in his tight throat. 

 

Sylar nodded, head loose between tense shoulders. Mohinder thrust harder, lost in the feeling of Sylar's enveloping warmth. He kept his speed slow, thrusting hard and throwing Sylar's body forward with the movement before dragging out slowly, reveling in the moans Sylar was making. 

 

Sylar arched his head back, eyes blinking closed as Mohinder kissed his cheek. His mouth fell open with a particularly well aimed thrust. 

 

Mohinder had to kiss him. 

 

He rocked his cock against Sylar's prostate, feeling his own release rushing up. He moaned as he pulled out, mouthing along Sylar's shoulder blade. 

 

Raising a noise of protest, Sylar turned to look at Mohinder, kneeling between his legs half dressed. 

 

“Turn over,” Mohinder demanded. Sylar's eyes flashed as he stretched his hips and rolled into the mattress. “Yes.”

 

Sylar's eyes darted over Mohinder’s body, taking a hard, hungry look at his wet cock before making a face at the shirt hanging from his arms. “What is this? Come on, babe,” he chastised, yanking it down his arm.

 

With a smile, Mohinder rolled his shoulders and the shirt dropped to the bed.  

 

“That's better.” Sylar bit his lip and reached to stoke down Mohinder’s chest. He looked him in the eye as he trailed down to his cock but Mohinder caught his hand and pinned it to the bed. Sylar smiled and ran his other hand through Mohinder’s hair before it too was pinned. “Oo, I like this.” He wrapped his legs around Mohinder’s ass and pulled him close. 

 

Mohinder nodded and kissed Sylar gently, pulling on his lips and tracing them with his tongue. Sylar whined under him, holding him tighter between his legs. 

 

Mohinder shuffled his knees apart as far as he could while hobbled in his pants, pushing Sylar's legs wide. Sylar's cock bobbed as he was moved. Mohinder wrapped his hand around it and stroked, catching Sylar's hips as he thrust up against him. Sylar balanced on his toes, hips perched high on Mohinder’s lap while his cock rubbed against his ass. 

 

Mohinder moved his grip from Sylar's wrist to hold his hand, still pressing him down in the pillow. He lined himself up again and looked at Sylar with a question in his eyes. Sylar nodded, heavy eyelids blinking quickly as Mohinder pressed in. He held Sylar's leg up with his arm and moaned as he was surrounded by quivering heat again. 

 

He bent to kiss Sylar hard, feeling the noises he made reverberate in his mouth as he trust into him. 

 

Sylar slung his free arm over Mohinder’s shoulders, holding him tight. Mohinder’s hand trailed up and down the back of his thigh, Sylar's other leg around his waist. 

 

Sylar huffed tiny breaths into Mohinder’s hair in time with their bodies. His lips grazed his temple and fingers skidded down his back. Mohinder kissed his cheekbone, getting his attention. “Touch yourself.”

 

Sylar's eyes flashed and his grip tightened. He tilted his head back and muttered something that sounded vaguely blasphemous. Mohinder let go of his hand and fell to his elbow, burying his face in Sylar's neck. He smelled like sweat and sex and soap and Mohinder felt his orgasm on the horizon. 

 

“Please,” he asked Sylar. “I want to see you come before I do.”

 

Sylar grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him over for a kiss as he took himself in hand. He gasped into Mohinder’s mouth. Mohinder grabbed his leg harder, running his nails over the course hair of his thigh. 

 

He kissed Sylar's mouth and face as he sped his hip’s movement, searching for the right angle for his prostate. Sylar's face showed when be found it. He kept his thrusts shallow, working Sylar up. 

 

“Oh god. Baby, right there.” He gripped Mohinder’s hair tight enough he moaned. “Oh my god,” Sylar whispered. Mohinder felt the back of Sylar's hand graze his stomach as he jerked himself. He thrust faster, hand curling under Sylar's ass, lifting him. 

 

Sylar was silent as he came, body strung taut under him. Mohinder felt him clamp down hard on his cock and his limbs seemed to stretch longer to surround him. 

 

He watched as a string of come landed high on Sylar's chest, slowly dripping down the curve of his clavicle and barely warned Sylar, “Gonna - I'm going to come,” and Sylar pulled on his ass hard, pushing him deep into himself and Mohinder was over the edge. 

 

He could feel Sylar's anus still twitching around him as he came, breathless. He dropped his head to Sylar's shoulder and they both gasped each other's air. 

 

“No,” Sylar breathed as Mohinder started to push back and out. “Stay.”

 

Mohinder nodded and kissed him, feeling Sylar melt into the mattress. His skinny limbs were everywhere, stroking Mohinder’s skin like he couldn't get enough. Mohinder wound his fingers in Sylar's damp hair, working the strands lose from the perfect shape Sylar labored over every morning. He grinned - wrecking Sylar's perfect facade certainly had its charm. 

 

Sylar started to speak but Mohinder stopped him with a kiss. His brain caught up with him as their lips slid together. 

 

He felt worry nag at the back of his mind even as his cock lay spent inside Sylar. What had he done? How would this change them? Even casual sex had strings, when had he gotten so entangled in Sylar's? 

 

Sylar twirled a curl around his finger. His lips brushed against Mohinder’s hairline, whispering his name. Mohinder pushed up on his elbows to look down. Sylar looked back up at him, face placid, almost reverent. 

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Sylar answered with a smile. He took Mohinder’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead and down the center of his face. Mohinder whined when he bypassed his lips and went straight down his chin to as low as he could reach on his upturned neck. He sucked a small kiss to the soft skin under his chin and burrowed his face there. “Because no dream of mine could do you justice.”

 

Mohinder pushed up on his hands. His soft dick fell free from Sylar's body and he sighed. Sylar lowered himself to the bed, knees still cradling Mohinder’s hips, arms still slung over his shoulders. Their bodies stuck together with Sylar's come and Mohinder couldn't help but laugh. He felt his stress sink back into hiding and enjoyed the moment in Sylar's arms.  

 

Sylar pulled himself up and kissed him hard, the touch devolving into two wide smiles pressed together. Sylar hummed and lay back down, hands trailing down Mohinder’s chest, slipping through the come smeared over his navel. 

 

“Mmm. Wanna go again?”

 

Mohinder laughed and sat back on his knees, pants bunched uncomfortably under him. “You're impossible!” 

 

Sylar stretched his legs around him; he was still at half mast. Mohinder licked his lips and stroked his cock, watching Sylar push into the touch. He had come pooled on his stomach and sprayed up his chest and as he stroked, Sylar's cock jerked and spilled one more lazy pulse of come over his hand. “Fuck, Sylar.”

 

Sylar just hummed contentedly in reply. Mohinder licked the come off the back of his hand and Sylar sat to kiss the taste from his tongue. They kissed until Sylar's stomach broke the silence with a loud rumble. 

 

Sylar looked vaguely embarrassed but Mohinder laughed with a grin, “I guess we can get dinner now.” Sylar rolled his eyes. “Come on, we'll get cleaned up and you can buy me dinner.”

 

“Oh, thank you, that's so sweet of you to offer me up,” Sylar teased back and Mohinder knew then that they hadn't changed. He felt elation at the thought and took Sylar's hand, dragging him to stand. He hitched his pants halfway up his thighs and took small steps to the bathroom. 

 

He looked at himself in the mirror as he wet a washcloth. His hair was an unsalvagable mess and his lips were swollen. Sylar had left small bruises on his neck from enthusiastic kisses and he had shallow scratches over his shoulder. 

 

He ran his fingers through Sylar's come, drying tacky on his stomach, before cleaning it off. He cleaned the excess lube from his dick, careful patting the sensitive glans as he pulled his foreskin back. 

 

Looking up, he saw Sylar watching him in the doorway. For a moment, he felt embarrassed but it passed when Sylar offered him a tiny smile. 

 

“Come here,” Mohinder motioned. “I'll clean you off.”

 

Sylar shook his head. “I'll wait.”

 

Mohinder tisked. “There's no point in being shy.”

 

“I know. I think … I need a minute, though.” A worried look crossed his face. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Sylar nodded but his expression didn't change. 

 

Mohinder watched him warily but Sylar waved him on. He shifted his weight, tilting his hips side to side. “It just … feels weird.”

 

“Good weird, or bad weird?”

 

“Weird. New.” Sylar cringed. “Wet.”

 

Mohinder gaped, “Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't even think!”

 

Sylar shrugged and stood awkwardly, waiting. 

 

Mohinder thought about Sylar under him, Sylar wet with his come, and a wave of lust hit him. He dropped the washcloth in the sink and took two long strides to Sylar, cupping his hands behind his ears and pulling him in for a hard kiss. Sylar's hands floated over his shoulders. Mohinder dropped his to Sylar's waist and held him tight until he relaxed in his arms. 

 

With Sylar's guard down, Mohinder trailed his hands to cup his asscheeks, rubbing hard with his fingertips and gently spreading them, fingers searching for Sylar's hole. 

 

“M’nder,” Sylar mumbled consonants against his lips.  Mohinder’s middle fingers found their goal and toyed with the swollen flesh, feeling wetness leak down over them.  His mouth fell open with greedy lust. “Stop, stop stop,” Sylar begged, eyes screwed shut. Mohinder did, removing his hands immediately. “That's too much.”

 

“Okay. Okay. I just -” he broke off but thought of Sylar's vulnerability and openess with him and decided to pay him in kind. “It's so hot, thinking of you filled with my come.” Sylar's face fell with a panted breath, eyes wide and fixed on Mohinder. “I'm sorry,” Mohinder said. 

 

Sylar shook his head. “Don't be. The thought is …” a single chuckle broke from his chest, “super hot. But the aftermath, I’m just not used to it? I'm really wet.”

 

Mohinder raised an eyebrow, unable to keep how appealing the thought was from his face. 

 

“Fuck,” Sylar caught himself. “Does your mind go anywhere but sex, seriously.”

 

Mohinder kissed his surly pout. “When you're naked and  _ wet _ in front of me? No.”

 

Sylar tried to hide his smile. “Goddamnit, are you done?” Mohinder nodded, pulling his pants back up. “Then give me a damn moment.”

 

“I'll be waiting,” he sing songed, turning to dig through his bag for a shirt. As he searched, he knew he had to do laundry again soon. He shook out a shirt that was good enough. 

 

He felt Sylar's lips on his shoulder before he even knew he was there. “Mmm. Better?” he asked, turning to catch Sylar's nod before his lips were captured. 

 

Sylar's hand rested on his scratched arm. “Sometimes I wish I couldn't heal.”

 

“Why?”

 

He thumbed Mohinder’s swollen bottom lip and looked at the hickies down his neck. “Because I never get to keep your marks on me.”

 

“Meanwhile, I look like I've been sexually ravaged by a bear.”

 

“You do not even.”

 

“Mmm. I do wish I could see my teeth in your shoulder.”

 

“Do it.”

 

Mohinder turned and looked up at him, naked but not looking vulnerable anymore. He was in control, he knew it, Mohinder knew it, and it was perfect. 

 

Mohinder kissed his neck, tilting it to the side and scraping his teeth down from jaw to shoulder, sinking into the meat between the joint and his neck. Sylar hissed and grabbed him, holding him close as he sucked Sylar's skin until it was hot and he whimpered. He licked a wide patch around the wound and stood back to watch the bruising and the indentations from his teeth heal quickly. “Oh.” Watching it left him feeling weak. 

 

Sylar was watching his face. “I do love that look.” Mohinder turned his face back up and Sylar kissed him. 

 

They dressed when they broke apart and Mohinder led them downstairs to the restaurant. He slid into the booth under the front window next to Sylar.

 

Sylar's surprised smile warmed him to his toes and he ignored the menu to kiss Sylar's neck and shoulder where his teeth had been planted minutes before.

 

It was late and the restaurant was quiet so even Mohinder’s unpowered ears could hear the sirens approaching. He couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

 

“No,” Sylar whispered, apparently on the same page. The sirens came to a halt out front and they saw the red ambulance lights flash through the window. 

 

They ran outside and to the ambulance and squad car parked in the corner. There, next to their car, was a human body torn asunder. 


	41. Chapter 41

“Sirs, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, this is an active crime scene,” the first officer out of the cruiser said, holding his hand up to them as they approached. Sylar kept walking but Mohinder blocked him with a hand on his stomach. The officer stood in the way of the dismembered corpse but Mohinder still had to fight to keep his eyes off the limbs at the edge of his vision.

 

“I'm sorry officer,” Mohinder said, voice weak. He coughed. “This is my car, can I move it out of your way?”

 

The officer shook his head. “I'm afraid not. I can't let anything be tampered with or moved until it's cleared. Do you need the vehicle tonight?”

 

Sylar started to talk but Mohinder cut him off. “No, not tonight, but we need it tomorrow.”

 

“You have somewhere to be?” he took a notepad and pen from his breast pocket, poised to write their answers.

 

“Yes, we're taking a trip ... We have a strict itinerary,” Mohinder answered.

 

“Where to?” he asked loudly as his partner retched in the bushes at the Volvo’s nose.

 

“Seattle,” Sylar took over. Mohinder looked at him and Sylar nodded almost imperceptibly. He had forgotten to ask where the last clue was sending them.

 

“What's in Seattle?”

 

“Business.”

 

“What kind of business?”

 

“Not yours,” Sylar ground out. Mohinder grabbed his wrist, rubbing his thumb over his pulse point in a way he hoped was soothing.

 

The police officer was getting irritated. “Look, mister - I didn't get your name?”

 

“I didn't give it.” He wasn't even being sly as he tried to see the body around the officer.

 

The man raised a hand to Sylar's chest to stop him as Sylar raised his own to do god knew what. Mohinder clapped down hard on Sylar's shoulder and started to say his name, but considering the police in their face and that Sylar's _nom de meurtrier_ had been broadcast in national news with the recent spate of murders, he caught himself and snapped, “Gabriel.”

 

Sylar's eyes shot to Mohinder. Mohinder clenched his jaw, silently willing him to shut up. They did not need trouble.

 

Sylar backed down and Mohinder tried to control the situation, “Excuse us, it's been a long day. We saw the commotion from the restaurant and got carried away.” He ran his hand down Sylar's arm and took a step in front of him. He flicked his hand behind his back, motioning Sylar toward the body while he continued to distract the officer. “Can I give you my information so I might get my car back when you are done with it?”

 

The officer visibly calmed down and took Mohinder’s information from his bogus ID.  Mohinder was apologizing for Sylar's behavior again when he was interrupted.

 

“You should see this, officer,” Sylar interjected, nodding toward the car behind the corpse.

 

“Hey, I told you to stay back,” the officer strode forward to confront Sylar and Mohinder was silently on his tail, sick to his stomach wondering what Sylar had found.

 

The cop stopped abruptly and Mohinder quickly saw why. Over the front wheel well were words painted on his car : I WARNED U. He tilted his head, looking closer. They were painted awfully neat for something from a spray can.

 

And then it hit him - the dark red words on his car were written in blood. Mere feet from the body torn to pieces, it was easy to tell where the blood had come from.

 

Bile rose in the back of his throat. Even unflappable Sylar looked green.

 

The officer's voice was heavy as he said, “Looks like we'll need your car for more than the night, boys.”

  
  
  
  


“He knows too much.” Sylar didn't react. “We don't know anything about him and he knows who we are, where we are, our fucking car?” Sylar's head was hanging between his shoulders and Mohinder continued, “He knew _when_ we would be here! Right here! Right under us!” He was freaking out and Sylar's shutdown wasn't helping him any. “Hey!” he shook his arm across the table.

 

Sylar looked up slowly and blinked. Mohinder held his hand too tight.

 

“What are we going to do?” Mohinder asked. “We could rent a car and go to Seattle now.”

 

Sylar shook his head. “No, we'll stay. Wait. We need to rest.”

 

Mohinder resisted, “You sleep, I'll drive. He's … this is more violent than any of the rest,” he whispered.

 

“He's escalating,” Sylar nodded. “But we have to wait.”

 

“Why?” he yelled in the empty restaurant.

 

Sylar slammed his hand on the table. “Because he's doing this for an audience!” Mohinder swallowed hard and waited for him to continue. “For me, or for you, for some twisted power play - without us, what is his point? He won't kill again without us. ”

 

“You can't be serious.”

 

“I am. He's showing us what he can do, ‘I warned you’?! He's holding his power over us high!” he hissed, wary of the attention they were getting from the staff as the only patrons.

 

“He told us to hurry.” Sylar nodded confirmation. “He told me he'd get you back,” Mohinder practically sobbed. He was losing any poise he had the longer they sat doing nothing.

 

“Honey. I'm right here. I'm just me, okay? He hasn't changed me, he hasn't made me do anything. This asshole does _not_ control me.”

 

“He's going to keep trying.”

 

“I'm afraid so.”

 

“If he's escalating, we need to get to Seattle as fast as we can. I can't let anyone else -” He choked.

 

Sylar stroked up his arms, turning them to touch the soft skin of the underside. “You're barely keeping your shit together. I can't let you keep on like this.”

 

“You don't get to decide what I do.”

 

Sylar snarled, “ _I_ can't keep doing this, then. I'm burnt out. I want to stop chasing him, I want to stop him, but right now I want to _kill_ him. I've been doing this for months, Mohinder. Months. Following him, seeing the people he's killed, always waiting for the next victim.” Sylar took a deep breath. “I know this is hard for you, I do know that. But please, Mohinder, please, let's take a day, two days. That's all. I can't do this anymore,” his voice cracked.

 

Mohinder knew that. He knew that the two weeks he had been on this guy's trail were just a taste of what Sylar had been through, but he couldn't just stop. He couldn't wait around while someone else was getting dismembered in Sylar's name. He turned away, looking out the window toward the crime scene, taped off and surrounded by cop cars.

 

“Mohinder.” He glanced back at his name. Blue and red lights danced across Sylar's face. Sylar's hands gripped his wrists. “Please. Trust me on this.”

 

He didn't answer but he did let his body relax into Sylar's hold. The glare he wore fell away and he dropped his head on his upturned arms.

 

Sylar kissed the top of his head.

 

The waitress came back to see if they needed anything. Sylar spoke over him, “No, I don't think we can eat right now. Thank you. We'll leave in a moment.”

 

“No need, sugar, we're open all night. Just holler if you change yer mind.”

 

Mohinder felt exhaustion take hold and he curled his fingers against Sylar's arms. He should go back upstairs.

 

“We should change hotels,” he suggested, face against the table.

 

“No use. He'd know.”

 

“I hate this,” he sobbed. Sylar stroked the back of his neck as he collected himself.

 

He was close to falling asleep under his touch when he heard Sylar whisper, “I'm _so_ sorry.”

 

Mohinder screwed his eyes shut, trying to shut the world out. He could still hear the kitchen staff muttering as they peeked out the window, he could hear the paramedics and officers outside clearing the scene, he could still smell the spilt blood on the night air. Sylar's hands on him were his only comfort.

 

He looked up, feeling woozy. “Take me upstairs.”

 

“Of course.” Sylar rose from the bench seat gracefully and didn't drop his hands from Mohinder. “I've got you, baby,” he said, pulling Mohinder out and up, leaving a generous tip for their untouched glasses of water on the table. He led Mohinder to the elevator, holding him tight against his body.

 

Mohinder pressed against him in the elevator, kissing him with a desperation wrought from terror. Sylar tugged him closer, wrapping a leg around his. The elevator stopped and they ignored it, lost to the world. Mohinder backed Sylar against the wall, trapping him between his arms. Sylar's hands tucked into the back pockets of his pants.

 

The elevator moved again and they rode it wrapped in each other as passengers got on and off. Sylar eventually slapped the button for their floor again and pulled Mohinder to their room. He barely had the keycard out of the door before Mohinder lifted him behind his knees and slammed him against the wall of their room.

 

Mohinder held him high with one arm and pulled his shirt up with the other, nuzzling at the soft skin of his belly. Sylar's hands curled over his shoulders, scratching through his shirt. Mohinder unbuttoned his jeans and palmed him through his underwear.

 

“Baby, put me down,” Sylar begged. Mohinder shook his head and shuffled him higher in his arms. He kissed down the trail of hair from Sylar's navel, mouthing the skin over his boxers. Sylar whined and smacked the ceiling with an open palm. “Mohinder!”

 

He looked up at Sylar. “What?” Sylar motioned to the door with his head and Mohinder turned to look but didn't see anything. “What?” he repeated, annoyed at being interrupted.

 

A piece of paper floated up off the ground and to Sylar's waiting hand. His eyes widened as he looked it over.

 

“What?!” Mohinder insisted, tired of sounding like a skipping record.

 

Sylar read to him: “'Are you getting bored of my little game? Is that why you're dilly dallying? Remember that time wasted is time I control. I'll see you in Seattle. And I will. I plan on going south after that, I'm thinking somewhere around Lake Tahoe. But wait until you get to San Francisco. You will die when you see what I have planned. I know your car will be taken for a few days, so enjoy some time on me. I'll be waiting for you.'”

 

Sylar slid down the wall as Mohinder’s arm gave out. “We're literally in his trap. He planned _all_ of this,” Mohinder gagged, feeling sick. “We're playing right into his plans.”

 

Sylar was silent as he stared down the paper. Mohinder saw it was printed from a computer so they couldn't get any information off it without turning it over to the police. Unless Sylar could read something from it.

 

His brow was screwed in concentration as he tried to do just that. “I can't see who typed it.” He looked up sharply. “But I know who delivered it.”

 

Mohinder shook his malaise and snapped, “Who?”

 

Sylar was already out the door, fumbling with his fly. “Bellboy. Come on!” Mohinder rushed after him, running down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Sylar almost floated down; Mohinder felt like an ox stomping behind him.

 

Mohinder overtook him in the lobby and caught himself on the front desk, Sylar sliding in behind him. “We need to see the bellboy,” Mohinder hurriedly told the clerk, shocked to see the men rushing her after midnight.

 

“He's - I don't know, I'll call him.”

 

“Thank you,” Sylar breathed hard as she spoke into a walkie talkie.

 

“He's on his way,” she confirmed.

 

“From where?” Sylar had no patience to wait.

“Um, service - you can't go back there!”

she yelled behind them as Sylar ran toward the service hallway she had pointed toward, Mohinder on his heels.

 

Sylar caught the bellboy by the front of his uniform as he exited the hallway. He threw him back thought the door and pressed him into the wall. Mohinder put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to calm down.

 

“Who gave you this?” he shook the note in the boy's face. Poor kid looked frightened, barely an adult and confronted by the second murderer of the night. Mohinder shook his head. Ex. One murderer, one ex-killer.

 

“I - I don't remember!”

 

Sylar snarled, “What do you _mean_ you don't remember?”

 

“I mean - I mean I don't know! I remember taking the paper from someone, but I don't remember them! Not at all.”

 

Sylar punched the wall by his head. Mohinder couldn't tell if the crack he heard was the plaster or Sylar's hand.

 

“What do you mean? You didn't see the man?”

 

The boy shook. Mohinder pulled Sylar back, giving the kid some space. “Was it a man? I don't remember. I took the paper from someone, I was told where to bring it, but all I can see in my head is a dark blur. I can't remember the person at all.”

 

Mohinder butt in, “You saw him, but you can't remember him?”

 

“Uhhuh. All I remember clearly is getting the paper and delivering it.”

 

“Did you read it?” Mohinder asked, but the kid answered Sylar with frightened eyes. “No! No, sir, I didn't! I - I couldn't …”

 

“You couldn't?” Mohinder questioned, confused.

 

“I couldn't turn my head down to see it. I wanted to while I was in the elevator, just something to do, but I couldn't. Like my neck was locked.”

 

“Is that something that happens?” Sylar sounded a little more calm.

 

“No! No, sir!”

 

Sylar pushed off the wall and shook his head. “Gives you deniability.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” He sighed. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I guess.”

 

Mohinder leaned over his shoulder; the poor kid was pale and sweaty. “Could you do us a huge favor?” The kid nodded his head so fast Mohinder had half a thought it would fall off. “If you see this man, if you can't remember someone the same way? The dark blur? Could you call us? We're in the room you delivered the note to, do you know the one?” His bobble head nodding started again. “Thank you. Thank you so much, it's very important.”

 

He grabbed Sylar's wrist and pulled him from the hallway. They went out the side door to get some air by the closed pool. He rubbed up Sylar's arms, hot in the chill of the night air. “Are you alright?”

 

“No.”He looked away, eyes lost. “I don't understand what's going on. It's pissing me off.” His hand cracked as he reset the bones. Well, that was the sound then.

 

“Your hand!” Mohinder reached for it but Sylar shook him off.

 

“It's okay, it's -” he wiggled his fingers and rolled his wrist, “- already healed.” He glanced up at Mohinder and back down again. “Just hairline fractures, anyway.”

 

“It really bothers me that you know what different fractures feel like just by _having_ _them_.” He gingerly took Sylar's hand and kissed the back of it. “I like these hands, please don't break them.”

 

Sylar pouted and looked away. He left his hand loose in Mohinder’s.

 

“ Okay then.” Mohinder leaned over into Sylar's line of sight and grinned. “ So _maybe_ don't take your attitude out on a poor teenager?” Sylar rolled his eyes and Mohinder kissed the corner of his mouth. “I know you can't help being a scary motherfucker, but maybe not in front of the kids.” He winked.

 

“Oh my god I can't stand you,” Sylar mumbled against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. Mohinder threaded his hands through Sylar's hair. Sylar pulled them out telekinetically. “Watch it, mister.”

 

Mohinder nipped his lip. “I'm just going ruin it, anyway.”

 

“Mmm. Promises, promises.”

 

Mohinder nuzzled his cheek, Sylar's stubble rubbing roughly across his face. His sigh was overtaken by a yawn and he buried his face in Sylar's shoulder to stifle it.

 

Sylar's hand brushed over his shoulders. “Maybe we should get some sleep, honey.”

 

Mohinder hummed agreement, hands wrapping in Sylar's shirt. One yawn brought another, bringing him down quickly from the adrenaline.

 

Sylar draped a warm arm over his shoulder and didn't let go all night.


	42. Chapter 42

Mohinder woke up to an empty bed. Again. He sighed and tried to get irritated before he started to panic. 

“Sylar?” he called out as he stretched. He looked at his phone charging on the nightstand - he had slept for ten hours. He felt like he had been awake for thirty. There were no messages blinking for attention on his phone. 

“Sylar?” he tried again, pulling back the blackout curtains. It was midmorning and the day looked cold as he overlooked the pool. “Gabriel?” he called, already knowing the bathroom would be empty before he peeked in. 

With an annoyed sigh and a growing sense of unease resting on his chest, he hurried to dress and leave. 

It was indeed cold outside and he shrunk down into his sweater. He should have taken one from Sylar's bag as well. 

He crossed the parking lot quickly, but he couldn't help but linger at the crime scene tape. His car had been towed for forensic testing and the body parts had been taken, blood cleaned away, but the sense of life senselessly lost, of wrongness, seemed to linger. He shivered and walked away quickly.   
He had no idea where Sylar could have run to. Because he had run. He wasn't taken. He wasn't torn to pieces. 

Goddamnit, he had to calm down and think. 

It was too early in the day for alcoholics anonymous meetings, so he probably wasn't doing the guilt trip there. But …

He looked around, down the street from the hotel. He walked toward the more downtown looking side, searching the skyline for a steeple. 

Bells from a couple blocks away rang the top of the hour and Mohinder turned to them. The stairs of the little white church he found nestled between a bookstore and playground had a few lingering people but it looked empty inside. 

Empty except for a few elderly ladies sitting near the front and Sylar's bowed head toward the back corner. As Mohinder’s heart settled, he saw Sylar's head tilt toward him, knowing he could hear his heartbeat. He hoped its racing wasn't obvious. 

He was still stuck between feeling like being tracked was an invasion of privacy and being comforted, knowing he would always be found. 

Mohinder didn't want to disturb Sylar so he slowly walked around the edges and alcoves of the room. The church was small and felt cramped with too many pews. There were candles lit at the feet of a statue of the Virgin Mary and he bowed his head in respect. A flash of color on the floor caught his eye and he looked up to the windows.

Stained glass angels looked serenely down on him. They were beautifully crafted and he walked slowly to see them stationed around the church. 

He felt a hand curl around his waist and lips press to his shoulder and he sighed. He whispered, “Someday I'll wake up with you, yes?”

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

Mohinder shook his head. He knew the stress they had both been under, he did understand. “I wish you weren't here to beat yourself up. 

Sylar hummed and wrapped his arms around Mohinder’s shoulders. Mohinder relaxed into his warmth. Sylar's lips brushed against his ear as he said, “You know I was named after an angel?”

“I figured as much.” He looked the windows over and pointed to one. “This one is Gabriel, yes?” The glass portrayed a female looking figure on a hill holding a lamp and a lily. 

“Yes. How'd you know?”

“I took a few mythology and religion classes in university.”

“Mythology, huh?” Mohinder turned to apologize but he saw Sylar smiling over his shoulder. “I guess it's all mythology until you put stock into it.”

“I didn't mean any offence.”

“I didn't take any offence. My stock is elsewhere. Habit just keeps calling me back.” He placed a gentle kiss on Mohinder’s cheek. “I was named after the archangel Gabriel.”

“That's the angel of … messengers, yes?”

“Yes. And the helper of scribes and scholars. I studied a lot about angels in Sunday school. The teacher let us do independent studies.”

“That's good. Something to keep your attention instead of getting bored.”

Sylar laughed, the sound ringing in the open space. Mohinder felt his pulse race again. “I may have taken it too much to heart. Gabriel was said to literally be the holder of all powers.” 

Mohinder turned, incredulous. “You're kidding me.” Sylar shook his head, chin rubbing against his shoulder. “That's - I've actually had a theory about how powers manifest differently in people and that fits very well. It's fascinating.”

Silence hung between them. “Well, are you going to tell me?” Sylar asked. 

“I will. Just not here, it's too quiet. I get a little … loud when I'm excited about something.”

Sylar's laugh rumbled intimately in his ear. “Mmm, I know.”

“Sylar,” he chastised. Sylar just ran his hands down Mohinder’s ass and kissed his neck. 

“Stop. We're in a place of worship.” He shook under the attention, trying not to look up at Sylar's namesake shining bright. 

“Well, worship is exactly what I am going to do. A little bit of sacrilege will be the least of my sins anyway.”

“Oh gods,” Mohinder swore under his breath as Sylar's fingers curled around the front of his hips. 

“Want to find a pew to consecrate?” Sylar purred. 

“Hotel. Hotel now, let's go.”

Sylar hummed and pushed Mohinder toward the door with his hips. Mohinder turned around to tell him to stop but Sylar just smiled and hit him with his hips again as he walked backwards. Mohinder lost his balance and Sylar caught him telekinetically. 

“Can I help you boys with anything?” A calm, accented voice asked from the back of the church. Sylar quickly stuck his hand out to look like he was manually helping Mohinder right himself. 

“We're alright, thank you,” Mohinder answered, stepping ahead of Sylar. 

“Thank you, Father,” Sylar repeated, head bowed. 

“Go with God,” the priest told them, voice stern but not unkind. Mohinder bounced down the stairs and watched Sylar move more meekly. He loosened up when he reached Mohinder’s side. He placed his hand over Mohinder’s hip and smiled shyly at him. 

“Are you alright?” Mohinder asked, concerned with his attitude flip-flops. Sylar nodded and walked him down the street. When the church was no longer in sight, he pressed Mohinder against a parked delivery truck and kissed him. 

Mohinder clung to the lapels of his coat, holding him close. “Stop trying to shoulder the blame. It isn't yours.”

Sylar hummed and took a play from Mohinder’s book and kissed him to shut him up. 

Mohinder turned his head and said lowly, “Promise me you'll try.”

Sylar stared him down but Mohinder didn't budge. He sighed. “For you,” he agreed. 

“For you,” Mohinder corrected, nuzzling his cheek. 

“You're too good for me,” Sylar said, voice breaking. 

Mohinder pulled back and took Sylar's face in his hands. “You think far too highly of me and not enough of yourself.”

 

 

 

Sylar pushed the elevator button to their floor and leaned against the back wall, hands behind him in the rail. He grinned at Mohinder, face tilted down and eyes shy. 

Mohinder took the two steps across the elevator and pressed him against the wall with his hands as he kissed him hard. Sylar shivered and opened his legs wide, sitting back on the railing, and Mohinder fell against his body. 

Sylar's hands were all over Mohinder, running up his sides and cupping his ass, dragging their cocks together through their jeans. 

Mohinder bit Sylar's lip and counted the dings of the elevator as they went upstairs. They should only have a couple more floors. He wanted to lose himself in Sylar so bad. 

Sylar canted his hips forward and held Mohinder’s face between his hands, holding him still as he moved his lips over Mohinder’s. He slid his tongue between his lips and it was Mohinder’s turn to shiver full body as Sylar wound his tongue around his and dragged at the roof of his mouth. 

Sylar's hands fell to his fly and worked the zipper down. He pulled off Mohinder’s mouth and watched him with wide eyes as he dragged his hand over his hard cock. 

Mohinder closed his eyes before he felt them cross. “Sylar,” he tried to admonish, but his name tripped out of his mouth lustful and needy. 

Sylar whined and the elevator jerked to a sudden halt. The door did not open. Mohinder swayed, spreading his legs for balance. Sylar gripped his cock, working it out of his boxers and he fell to his knees. He barely had any room against the wall so Mohinder moved to take a step back. 

Sylar grabbed his ass, fingers curling in the pockets of his jeans, and held him in place as he swallowed the tip of his cock into his warm mouth. He slid his tongue under the foreskin and circled the glans before rolling it down and pulling at the skin with his tongue. 

He sucked hard and Mohinder gasped, one hand braced on the wall and the other curling in Sylar's hair. He watched as Sylar took him deep in his mouth, turning sideways so his cock bulged his cheek. Sylar bobbed his head back and forth, Mohinder’s hand resting on his cheek and feeling his cock hit the stretched flesh. 

“Oh, Sylar,” he moaned. “So good.”

Sylar's hands squeezed his ass cheeks and moved to grip Mohinder’s hips tight. He pulled his hips forward and Mohinder moved both hands to brace against the wall. 

“Mohinder,” Sylar moaned, running his hands up his thighs and digging into his hips. “Please, could you,” he sighed and Mohinder felt his hands moved without his effort to the back of Sylar's head. He curled his fingers in his hair as Sylar’s power held them in place. 

His hands were pulled forward, dragging Sylar's head back to his cock. “Sylar,” he gasped, but not fighting his control.

Sylar smiled as he felt Mohinder finally pull him closer on his own. He moved his head to the side, running his smiling lips down the side of his cock. 

Mohinder groaned and pulled Sylar's face back forward. 

“Please.” Sylar begged with his eyes as well as his words. “Please, Mohinder, hard.” His mouth was open as he panted for breath.

Mohinder grabbed the base of his dick and rubbed the wet tip over Sylar's bottom lip. Sylar whined but didn't move, not until Mohinder pulled his head forward again. He watched his cock disappear in Sylar's mouth, flesh dragging over his dry lips. 

Sylar groaned, the sound vibrating up Mohinder’s body. He leaned back into Mohinder’s hands, not pulling anymore, just cradling his head. 

Mohinder gasped as he felt his hips jerk forward without his say, Sylar's throat opening to allow his cock in. He gagged a little and Mohinder pulled back. Sylar slammed him back forward with telekinesis, cock sliding down his throat as he was buried to the root. 

Too hard; Mohinder didn't want to hurt him. But Sylar controlled his movement and kept the pace hard and fast. 

Sylar's hands twitched over Mohinder’s hips. He closed his eyes and whined, high pitched and desperate, and Mohinder took control, pulling his cock almost free of Sylar's mouth before slowly pushing it fully back in, pubes brushing against Sylar's nose. His hands tightened in Sylar's hair, pulling the strands tight as he experimentally yanked his head forward. 

Sylar's body jerked and his throat fluttered around Mohinder’s cock. His hands landed on Mohinder’s stomach, pushing under his sweater and shirt and clawing at soft flesh with his fingertips. 

Mohinder pulled his hips back and slid forward, faster this time, his movement staggered as he watched his dark flesh slide into Sylar's lips, stretched wide and pale from the force. 

Sylar blinked his eyes open, looking at Mohinder through dark eyelashes. Mohinder moaned and slammed back into Sylar's throat. 

Sylar jerked, moaning encouragements as Mohinder drove back in, catching Sylar's head against his hands before he hit the wall. 

Sylar's throat was open for him and he slid down, feeling Sylar swallow around his head. He moved his hips in a circle, forcing Sylar's head to follow. 

He breathed hard, high on the control.

He saw Sylar's hands move to his own cock, bulging hard in his jeans. “Oh fuck.” He was going to come. 

He gripped Sylar's head behind his ears and tilted it back, feeling his cock slide up Sylar's throat and rubbed the tip against the roof of his mouth. Sylar whined and rolled the heel of his hand over his own trapped erection. Mohinder thrust into his mouth hard and Sylar surrounded him with his tongue, rubbing up and down along the veins as Mohinder drove into his mouth. 

Mohinder braced his hands on the wall and watched Sylar wrap one hand around the base of his cock and twist his fist around what wasn't in his mouth. His thrusts were shallow and he panted, forehead against the wall. He could feel Sylar's moans and rolled onto his toes, one hard thrust and he came with a choked yell.

Sylar's hands held his hips tight even as he fought not to cough, pulling Mohinder back and out as he swallowed. 

Mohinder leaned heavily against the wall, looking down at Sylar, thoroughly debauched kneeling under him. Their harsh breaths were the only sound in the car. 

As Sylar collapsed to sit on his legs, he tilted his head back and looked back up at Mohinder. His pupils were dilated and lips swollen and red. He licked them slowly. 

The elevator car slid into motion again, the quiet dings marking their ascent. 

Sylar reached for Mohinder’s dick, pulling the sensitive foreskin back and licking up the lingering come. Mohinder growled, “Fuck, Sylar.”

“Mmmhmm.” He dropped his eyes to focus on cleaning and tucking Mohinder back away, nipping at his sensitive flesh through his jeans as he buttoned them. He stood, near slithered, up the wall between Mohinder’s hands. 

Mohinder kissed him hard, tasting residual come in his mouth. Sylar gripped him tight, hands wrapped around the back of his neck. He pushed Mohinder from the elevator with his body, crowding him as they kissed their way down the hall. 

He backed Mohinder against the door and ground against him as he struggled with the keycard. He popped the door open and Mohinder fell to his knees as it slammed shut. He tried to stop his hands from shaking as he unzipped Sylar's jeans. 

“No, baby,” Sylar whined, unable to stop his hips as he thrust into Mohinder’s surrounding hand. 

“Yes, baby,” Mohinder answered, licking along Sylar's hard length with a needy moan. He opened his mouth to swallow him in but Sylar raised his hand and he was stopped. 

Mohinder whined, open mouth so close to Sylar's cock, and blinked up at him with desperate eyes. He panted warm breath on Sylar's leaking head and watched his resolve melt. 

Sylar tilted his hips forward, cockhead barely touching Mohinder’s lips. The needy noise Mohinder made had him thrusting slowly between his lips and against Mohinder’s tongue. He sighed and pulled out, raising another whine from Mohinder. 

He was quickly stifled when Sylar psychicaly lifted him from the ground and threw him across the room onto the bed. 

Mohinder was a mess when his senses came back. He tore at his clothes, tugging them off as quick as he could. The desperation he felt was echoed in Sylar's eyes as he watched him stalk over, removing his coat. 

“Fuck me. Sylar, fuck me.”

Sylar finished yanking his pants off for him, sliding him down the bed into his arms. Mohinder slid Sylar's shirt up, letting a hand card through his chest hair as he sucked a pink nipple into his mouth. Sylar finished the job of removing his shirt and leaned his head back, chest pressed to the mouth bruising him, and unbuttoned his pants. Mohinder helped pull his pants down and grabbed his cock in a hard tug. 

He smiled against the swollen nipple in his mouth as Sylar moaned. Sylar pushed him back, moving him fluidly up the bed with power supplementing his physical strength. Mohinder arched his back in pleasure as Sylar crawled over him. He slung his arms around Sylar's neck to pull him into a kiss. “I really like when you use your powers on me.”

“Baby, I know.” Sylar kicked his jeans down to bunch around his boots and rolled his hips. His hard cock brushed Mohinder’s softening one and Mohinder pushed him back. 

“Too much,” he said reluctantly. Sylar just nodded and pressed his face into Mohinder’s neck as he readjusted their bodies. He straddled one of Mohinder’s thighs and brushed his cock up along his hipbone. “Yes,” Mohinder whined, arching into the touch. 

Sylar still brushed against his sensitive dick but it was just enough to tease. He slid his hand between their hips and brushed his fingers down Sylar's length as he thrust. 

Sylar moaned through their kissing and Mohinder felt his body tense. “Yes. Come, Sylar, come for me.”

Teeth grazed Mohinder’s shoulder as Sylar panted. He laid full body over Mohinder, hands in his hair and knees knocking together. He moaned and Mohinder felt him come, warmth spreading over his belly. 

“Yes, so good, Sylar.” He ran his hands over Sylar's back as he gasped for a full breath. “That's so good.” He kissed Sylar's face and hummed as his legs tightened possessively around him.

A shiver ran down his arms as he propped up on his elbows and looked down at Mohinder. Mohinder’s stomach twisted even as he sat up to kiss him.


	43. Chapter 43

“Tell me your theory,” Sylar suggested, fingers trailing through Mohinder’s hair. They were laying on the bed, letting hands wander and lips meet. 

“Hmm. I actually …” Mohinder bit his lip and looked shiftily to the side, thinking. “I need your help on it. It sounds a little silly until it's substantiated.”

“Okay.”

“It's a bit … uncomfortable,” Mohinder winced. 

Sylar blinked at him, face blank. “Does it involve needles? If it's a spinal tap, you can go to hell.”

Mohinder smiled. “No. Nothing like that. Just uncomfortable, digging up the past kind of questions.”

“Oh.” Sylar looked at him, eyebrows low in thought. “Go ahead,” he conceded quietly. “I'll tell you to stop if I don't want to answer.”

“Please.” Mohinder’s face perked up, excited to flesh out a theory he had had rattling in his head for a while. “So powers manifest in people in different ways, yes?”

Sylar nodded. “Some are similar, just degrees of variation.”

“Yes, I would assume there's a finite number of super human powers.”

Sylar rolled onto his back. “I think it's terribly limiting to believe that. I'm sure there are innumerable people with amazing abilities you haven't even thought of.”

“Really?” he draped an arm over Sylar's chest and rested his head on his other hand over Sylar's stomach. His breaths were soothing and deep under him. “That's wonderful,” his voice was wistful as he contemplated infinite possibilities. “Anyway, I was wondering if the ability a person aquires is related directly to their personality.”

“Hmm.” Sylar thought about it. “It's possible.”

“With your help, I'm hoping it could prove probable.”

“What can I do?”

“Well, no one else I know has had their hands on a powered person's brain.” Mohinder shut his eyes. When be opened them, Sylar was looking back at him with a calm face. He nodded and Mohinder continued, “I was wondering how you found powers in the brain.”

Sylar looked up at the ceiling. “There's a spot on their brains that feels fresh, like it's a part of the brain that hadn't been used before. It's a different texture almost. But it's all the same. I don't know how to explain it.”

“So it is a physical thing?”

“As far as I can tell, yes. I'm not a professional, though.”

Mohinder’s eyes shone. “But you know anatomy. You know where it's located.”

Sylar's eyebrows quirked. “How'd you know?”

“You had books open in your apartment. On brain anatomy and surgery.”

“Oh. Yeah. I like to forget you saw all that.”

Mohinder hummed and traced invisible lines up Sylar's chest. He felt Sylar's silent embarrassment and moved along: “Where is a person's power located?”

Sylar's fingers pressed firmly to Mohinder’s scalp. “It's a little different person to person. Most I found were near the frontal lobe,” he said, two fingers massaging the general spot on Mohinder’s head. “A few were way off.” He pressed his fingers next to the top of Mohinder’s ear. “A couple were hard to find, deep near the amygdala. The artist was a mess, his power was in the center of his brain.” 

Sylar's fingers dug into the base of Mohinder’s skull. Mohinder sighed, “The hypothalamus. The reward seeking part of the brain.”

Sylar made a face. “He was an addict, yes? He had paraphernalia around his loft.”

“Yes. I found enough when I took over the space to know he used heroin.”

“And if his power attached to that need? If it was created from it? What if his precognition gave him the same chemical satisfaction as drugs?”

Mohinder kissed Sylar's stomach as he thought in silence. “How do you feel when you use his power?”

“Neutral. It's like a muscle flexing, I know it's working but I don't get any particular pleasure from it.”

Mohinder shifted on his arms to look up at Sylar. “What about Claire?”

“Hers is toward the center as well. I had to dig to find it,” he grimaced. “I'm glad she can heal.”

“Do you remember where it was?”

“By feel. I could tell you if I had a diagram.”

Mohinder pushed up. “Let me get my computer.”

Sylar pulled him back down and they watched as his power pulled the laptop from the bag and floated it over to the bed. “That's very handy. Now if only you had the power to get me lunch,” Mohinder teased. 

Sylar kissed him as Mohinder draped further up his body and booted his laptop. “Oh, but I do.” He reached one long arm over the nightstand and placed a call on the landline. “Hello, room service, please.” He winked at Mohinder. “Hi, yes, I was wondering what you had to order? I do have a menu but it's across the room and I’m a little buried in bed right now.” He held Mohinder tight and listened to the offerings as Mohinder mimed psychicaly calling the menu from the desk before rolling his eyes and waving Sylar's smiling face away. Mohinder half listened as Sylar placed an order as he searched his scans of Gray’s Anatomy for pictures of the brain. 

Sylar hung up and watched him scroll through the text. “You know you could just search Google.”

“Of course. But I can annotate my scans,” he said, not looking up. He felt Sylar smile under his shoulder and rub up his back in long lazy strokes. “Ah hah.” He turned the screen to Sylar. 

Sylar pointed to the spot Claire's power was hidden in. “Basal ganglia.”

“Hold on.” Mohinder searched again, through a psychiatry book he had scanned and researched already. Sylar tilted his head to read the annotations. “Hmm. I don't know her well, but she does seem temperamental and impulsive.”

Sylar bristled. “I don't know about that.”

Mohinder raised an eyebrow. “The whole world watched her jump from a Ferris wheel on television.”

“True. So you think she heals because she's prone to being unpredictable? A failsafe in case of stupidity?”

“No, not exactly. I think her personality is strongest in that impulsive part of her brain. As for the healing? I think it fulfills a need.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's no one as vulnerable as a teenage girl. She needed to be safe, she needed to be invulnerable. And I think her body provided just that.”

“That's a pretty thin theory, dear.”

“Hmm. Perhaps. I don't know her very well. Let's take … let's take Peter for example. Do you know him well enough?”

“To analyze? Sadly, I think I do.”

“He's a nurse, his job is literally to ease, to take people's pain. As an empath, that's his power as well. His personality is empathetic also, he reads people very well.”

“Yes, Peter is wonderful, moving on,” Sylar groused. 

Mohinder’s smile was crooked as he asked, “Could you take powers emphatically before you were locked together in your mind?”

“Yes. I didn't get it from him. It was just easier when my power manifested, it made more sense, to go hands on. Can we move on from this, please?” he snapped. 

Mohinder nodded, fingers running soothing strokes along Sylar's collarbone. “How about Matthew?”

Sylar looked confused for a moment. “Your cop friend,” he deduced. “He's a dick.”

Mohinder opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut. Sylar continued, “He's afraid of how people are judging him. He's a nosy sneak, reading people's thoughts to get the one up on them. He's disrespectful and uses people's private thoughts to manipulate them,” he growled. 

“Wow. I always thought he was more a victim of circumstance.”

“He probably let you. He plays dumb more than be actually is.”

Mohinder abandoned the computer to hold Sylar. “You seem to understand him well. Why don't you have his power, empathetically? I hear you spent enough time ‘haunting’ him.”

Sylar shut his eyes and rolled his face to the ceiling. “I have no idea how a person could be so selfish, so insecure, to feel the need to spy on others at their most intimate. I understand why he has his power, but not what could make him have it, if that makes sense.” Mohinder nodded. Sylar sighed. “I would never want to hear anyone's thoughts. When I was a prisoner, my thoughts were the only thing the Company couldn't take from me. They took everything else, poked and prodded and experimented on. My thoughts were all I had.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You didn't do anything, don't apologize.”

“I’m still sorry you had to go though all that. For how people treated you. he finished in Tamil, unable to speak the words in their common tongue.

Sylar's breath caught. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Mohinder kissed his neck. “Do you want to do me, now?”

Sylar rolled them over so he was pressed on top of Mohinder’s naked body. “Always,” he purred. 

Mohinder laughed. “For once, I'm not meaning sexually. Why do you think I have my particular power? Do you think it would be the same if I came about it naturally?” Not sexually or not, be stretched under Sylar's weight with a moan. 

Sylar rolled his hips and Mohinder arched against him. “You are always working to prove yourself. You … how wonderful you are didn't seem enough, so you wanted to be more than just another man. You wanted to be more and you did just that. Human, amplified.” Sylar's grinding slowed to a pleasant brushing of their bodies as he spoke. “I think you always had the potential to push further than your perceived limits. It doesn't matter how you gained your strength, it was always yours.”

Mohinder held Sylar's face and looked up at him with wide eyes. “You think so?”

“You're extraordinary,” Sylar whispered against his lips. 

Their kiss was interrupted by a knock on the door. Sylar sighed in irritation but Mohinder beamed, “Lunch!”

Sylar rolled his eyes and Mohinder rolled over on the mattress, watching him grab his wallet from his discarded jeans and pad to the bathroom to wrap a towel around his waist and open the door. 

“Oh. It's you again,” Mohinder heard Sylar say to the person in the hallway. He took a tray from them and balanced it on one hand to take cash from his wallet. “You sure get around a lot here.”

Mohinder rolled to his stomach to look out the door around Sylar. He made eye contact with the bellboy from the night before and watched his eyes shoot up. “Not as much as you do,” tripped from the boy's mouth before he slammed his hand over it. He looked up at Sylar. “Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean anything! I just -”

Mohinder laughed silently as Sylar let the boy stew in apprehension. 

“That's true enough,” Sylar's voice rumbled as he handed the money over. “You haven't seen a blurred person recently?”

“No, sir!”

“Okay then. You know what to do if you do. Goodbye, then.” He shut the door with a grin that turned wicked as he turned back to Mohinder and let his eyes travel down his body. 

“What did I say about being mean to children?” Mohinder teased, sitting to take the tray from Sylar. 

“Mmm. You can't take away all my fun.” He stole the sandwich half Mohinder was reaching for and took a large bite. Mohinder poked him and took the other half. 

“Okay.” Mohinder swallowed and placed his free hand on Sylar's thigh as he sat cross legged across from him. “So if my power was always supposed to be just more than human, where do you suppose the insect stuff came from? Just to be candid, I did grow scales, I spun cocoons to kill people in and I could climb walls.”

Sylar's eyes were wide, sandwich ignored in his hand. He shook his head and answered, “I don't know. Maybe it was expectation, maybe you did see The Fly too many times and it turned super you super gross.”

“Shut up, that's rediculous.” Mohinder backhanded his arm. They ate in silence until Mohinder broke it, poking the fries on the plate. “Jeff Goldblum was my first American crush, though.”

Sylar smiled up at him, crooked and shy as he mumbled, “Lieutenant Commander Spock.”

“What?” Mohinder began to laugh. 

“Don't make me regret telling you. Jerk.”

Mohinder stroked up Sylar's thigh. “I'm sorry. You're just … such a dork!” he laughed again. Sylar kicked the pillows up with his power and smacked Mohinder in the head with them; he half heartedly fought them off. 

Sylar called off the pillow attack and kneeled to kiss Mohinder. “C’mon. Let's get out of bed.”

“What? Why?” Mohinder asked as he curled up against Sylar's body. “We could just stay here,” he muttered as his hand wrapped around Sylar's cock. 

“Mmm, tempting as you are, let's get out for a while, so I can take you back to bed later.”

“Promise.”

“There's nothing I'd rather do than get you in bed with me. I promise.”

Mohinder hummed. “I guess we could go for a walk.”

Sylar cleaned up lunch and watched Mohinder get dressed. 

“What are you looking at?” Mohinder buttoned his slacks and shook out a shirt. 

“Just seeing what I get to unwrap tonight,” Sylar purred. 

Mohinder raised an eyebrow and pulled the tee over his head. “Presumptive.”

Sylar's hand brushed his hip as he passed. “Your track record says I get to undress you. I plan to start there, and work my way to better things.”

Mohinder’s breath stuttered as Sylar’s hand lingered on his ass. Sylar turned with a grin to get dressed himself and Mohinder focused on breathing evenly as he pulled on a sweater. 

In the hall, Mohinder found his eyes lingering on the elevator. “Presumptive,” Sylar teased in his ear as he passed toward the stairs. Mohinder shook himself and followed. 

It was warmer outside with the sun high in the sky, but still cool enough to justify walking in each other's pockets. Their shoulders bumped as they wandered silently down the street. 

They were well into downtown when Sylar spoke up. “So what about me?”

“What about you?” Mohinder asked. Sylar was picking at the sleeves of his coat and wouldn't meet Mohinder’s eyes. 

“Why do I have my power? If it's the same as my father's, do you think powers can be inherited, too?”

“I don't know enough parent and child evos to make that hypothesis. I've only met one of Molly's friends and his mother - they had different powers, but hers was synthetic, like mine. I don't know if that makes a difference either.”

“But why?” Sylar looked at the ground and kicked at pebbles. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

Mohinder’s hand found his and he squeezed until Sylar looked up at him. “I believe that.”

“Thank you.” Sylar relaxed a little. 

“As for why your specific power? You understand things well, I think you probably did before your power kicked in. Or maybe it was always there.” He glanced sideways at Sylar's profile, brows drawn low and eyes downcast. “I bet you used to break things apart as a kid. And put them back together.”

“I fixed them. Once I had all the pieces and I could see how something worked, I could make it better.”

Mohinder nodded. “You took people apart because that's how you understand how things work.”

“Too bad people don't go back together as easy as clocks and microwaves.”

Mohinder wasn't amused. “Really? Don't be crass.”

“You started it.” Sylar was defensive. 

Mohinder rolled his eyes. “Moving on.” He folded his hand around Sylar's and held it as they walked. “I think you're forgetting your empathy. Which may be more ‘you’ than your aptitude.” Sylar scoffed and he continued, “You're very sensitive. You can't hide your emotions at all and you feel so much. You get attached to people very quickly and would do anything to please them.”

“I do not.”

“You very much do. It's just that people lie to you, jerk you around and use you, so you erect walls and try to be mean to scare people away before you can be hurt again.”

Sylar was dumbfounded. “I didn't know this would be psychoanalysing hour.”

“Yes you did. That's exactly why you asked me. You're nosy, you want to know everything, you're a perfectionist so you can't stand seeing people waste their powers, you're looking for attention and approval and you don't always look toward good people for that. If you had asked me a month ago, a year ago, last time I saw you? I'd say you were a psychopath. But I see now you're just hiding behind so much pompous angry armor that you don't let people through to know you. You shut them out so you don't have to feel for them, you don't have to care.”

“Is that how you see me?” Sylar asked as he stepped in front of Mohinder, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “A kicked dog, threatening people on instinct?”

“Not in those words. But if you want to be an asshole about it -” he threw his hand in the air. “I wish I could stop you from hating yourself,” he added forlornly. 

“Whatever, Mohinder. It's my problem. Are you going to answer my question or just blather unrelated garbage?”

Mohinder refused to rise to Sylar's temper. “It's possible to stop emphasizing with people. After trauma, after repeated emotional injury, it's easy to shut people out entirely. It's a protective thing, though not an entirely productive one.”

“So I killed people for their powers, I killed people who were just in my way, because I stopped caring about them? It's that simple?”

“Nothing is simple with you.” Mohinder pointed in Sylar's face, “Don't get ahead of me.” Sylar jumped back at his tone. Mohinder found himself slipping into a comfortable authority, hypothesizing and lecturing all at once. He took a deep breath and shooed Sylar backwards. “Walk. Let's sit.” He pointed to a bench in the park across the street. 

Sylar took a couple steps backward and turned, leading Mohinder to a picnic table further into the park. Mohinder sat on the bench and Sylar curled up cross legged on the table in front of him. 

Mohinder’s hands trailed up Sylar's thighs mindlessly as he continued, “Do you know what empathy is?”

“Feeling another's pain.”

“No.” Mohinder shook his head. “Understanding another's pain. You have to understand it to feel it.” Sylar tilted his head in thought. “I think that's your power at it's most base. You understand.”

“But? Why do I take powers?”

“It's a variation of another power.”

“My father's.”

Mohinder’s chest swelled with something like pride as he saw understanding cross Sylar's face. He missed teaching so much in that moment. 

Sylar's face fell in a serious look. “Do you think I took my father's power?”

“I don't know. It's possible. They're very similar, but you take powers by understanding the person they come from, by understanding what is different, what is special, in the brain of an evo. Your power is unique to you.”

“You think I shut the world out mentally to protect myself?”

“I do. You were discarded by your parents at such a young age, I think shutting down was the only way you could survive.”

“I thought I was insane,” Sylar breathed. 

Mohinder held his legs tight, wishing he could pull him down to a proper embrace. “Well, it certainly wasn't the most sane reaction. And living like that for decades? If you weren't all the way in, you at least toed insanity.”

Sylar sat back and silently digested everything Mohinder had said. Mohinder watched him. The sounds of the park surrounded them - children playing, adults laughing, an excited dog. He saw a farmer's market set up in the parking lot behind Sylar. The breeze picked up and he shivered into his sweater. 

Sylar stroked down his arms with warm hands without looking at him. 

“I think,” Mohinder placed his hand over Sylar's heart, drawing his attention. “I think your power would be right where empathy is processed in the brain.”

Sylar's fingers pressed over Mohinder’s ear and mumbled, “Insula.” Mohinder smiled up at him. “Do you want to see if you're right? I can open it right up for you.”

Mohinder was disgusted at his immediate blind excitement at the offer. “As much as I do want to prove it, no. No thank you.”

Sylar's grin was soft and unexpected. “That's why I like you.”

“I want to see your brain for my own gain?”

“That you tell me you want to see my brain for your own gain.” He bent to kiss Mohinder softly, moaning as his hands curled higher around the inside of his thighs. “Mohinder,” he growled. 

Mohinder moved to his knees, pushing Sylar up to a less uncomfortable bend. He brushed the heel of his hand over Sylar's crotch, humming in pleasure to feel him half erect. His name fell from Sylar's lips again, in a dark sigh. 

Sylar leaned back and Mohinder trailed his lips down his chest before Sylar pushed him back. 

“Stop, honey. I'm kind of … reeling. I have a lot to process here.”

“Okay,” Mohinder said as he nuzzled his belly. “Do you need time alone? I have to make a phone call, I can go do that.”

Sylar's hands toyed with his hair. “No, you stay. I'll take a moment though, yes. You don't mind?”

“Not at all.” He stood, Sylar following after. “If - if I crossed a line or if you think I'm wrong, let me know. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No. I think you are pretty much right. It all fits … everything kind of makes sense, now.”

“You kind of make sense, now.”

“And you remain a mystery,” Sylar kissed against Mohinder’s lips as he brushed by.

Mohinder sat on the table where Sylar had left and watched him go. He touched a tree gently as he wandered to the farmer's market and Mohinder grinned, pulling out his phone and dailling a familiar number. 

he smiled when the call was picked up. 

“Mohinder! How wonderful to hear from you, I was just thinking about you,” his mother switched to English, always eager to speak her fourth most fluent language. “How are you, my dear?”

Mohinder didn't want to get into the complexities of his life so he brushed the question off. “I think I'm alright. I'm well. How are you? How's Molly?”

“We’re wonderful, thank you. Do you remember my friend down the street? His daughter asked about you a while ago …”

Mohinder sighed as his mother caught him up on the neighborhood gossip; some about people he knew, some about people he wished he didn't know, and some about people he had never met. He zoned out with a smile, glad to hear her voice. 

He walked from the bench and around a group of trees, trying to look casual as he looked for Sylar. He saw him at a booth, inspecting something. He smiled. 

His mother stopped for breath and Mohinder took his moment to hijack the conversation. “So mom, that's fascinating, but I read the most interesting article last month, I was wondering if you had seen it?”

He loved that she was one of the only people that could keep up with his interests and intellect. They could talk for hours about scientific papers and theories, she was always a wonderful sounding board for his ideas. 

So was Sylar, actually. From the time they met, he had been eager to hear Mohinder’s ideas and soak up his knowledge, more eager than many of his students. He had only become more so after dropping his personas. 

Mohinder felt his smile widen thinking about Sylar. He tried to keep his voice even and his attention on the conversation. 

“Bring her next time you come home,” his mother said, voice also smiling. 

“What?” Mohinder asked, confused. “Who her?”

“Whoever is making you so happy, Mohinder. I haven't heard you so happy in so long.”

Mohinder shook his head. “Mom, there's no girl,” he laughed. “I'm just …” he didn't know how to finish. 

He was happy. 

“Mohinder, you know I love you. I just want you to be happy, son.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I know I haven't done much for you -”

“Mom -” he interrupted. 

She talked over him, “But my job as a mother is to make sure you're alive. I can hear that you are,” her voice was light. “Your first job is to make sure you're living.”

The line was silent for a moment. She continued, “Mohinder, are you just alive, or are you finally living again?”

Mohinder glanced up and saw Sylar walking the stalls across the street. His stomach twisted. “Mom,” he said quietly and thought about his words but couldn't pick them out of his emotions. “I'm - I'm figuring that out.”

“Now that's a start.” Mohinder laughed at her words and they continued to chat a couple minutes before she turned the phone over. 

“Mohinder?!” a small, excited voice filled his heart through the phone. 

“Molly! Hi, honey!”

“I'm so happy you called! How are you?”

“I am well. I'm …” happy “well,” He repeated lamely with a cringe. 

“And you're safe? He's keeping you safe?” She never said Sylar's name, but never called him the boogeyman anymore. 

“Molly,” he sighed. “Honey, why did you send him to me?”

“He said he'd keep you safe. He's … changed. He said he'd take care of you and he was telling the truth, I know.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know, Mohinder,” the conviction and finality in her voice were exactly the same as his mother's. “I'm not stupid, I made sure. I have plenty of friends with plenty of ways to make sure.”

“I'm sure you do. How is that going? You and your friends?” Her involvement with Micah and with Rebel as a group worried him, but he knew she could take care of herself, and that the kids took care of each other. 

Molly sounded playful, “It's a secret. But you'll know when something big goes down. Or you won't, which would be even better.”

“Molly … don't get hurt. Or I'll send him to watch over you, if he's such a good guy now,” he half threatened. 

Molly laughed. “Mohinder, he wouldn't leave you. Don't be silly. But you could both come! Your mom misses you, it would be good!”

“It would be, and it will be. I'll come by as soon as I can, okay, sweetie? I'm just … I'm helping him with a huge problem.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure? About… everything?”

“I learned something new,” Molly said slowly. “When I search for people, I can see their colors.”

“Colors? What do you mean?” 

“Like how they feel, I think. Like when he's near you, he feels blue.”

Mohinder felt worried. “Blue? Like he's sad?”

“No. No, it's a warm blue feeling, like a hug of blue. You make him blue.”

“That's interesting. That's a neat thing to have learned, Molly, how'd you figure it out?”

“Because you turn orange! I was watching for you, I noticed when he's near you feel orange. Bright orange. And then I noticed his color change, and other people's! Your mom has so many colors, Mohinder, she's like a whirlwind.”

“If it's emotion you're sensing, I'm not surprised. She's always had very strong feelings,” he said, glad you be off the topic of his own emotional coloring. 

He looked back at the vendor stalls and saw Sylar start to weave his way over. He had a bag on his shoulder, full and lumpy, and a pink bakery box in hand. Mohinder smiled. 

“Are you ignoring me? You're turning orange! And kinda red, now.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper. “Micah turns red sometimes, when I'm in the room.” Her voice held enough suggestion in it that Mohinder was reminded again she was on the border of teenagehood, no longer a scared little girl. 

“Molly!” Mohinder could definitely feel himself turning red, feeling caught red handed. Literally. “I'm sorry, I zoned out, what were you saying?”

She sighed. “That I have to go back to my homework now. I'm learning geometry and I don't like it.” He could hear her pout.

“Well, it's a good thing to know, it'll help you solve problems the rest of your life.” Sylar stopped in front of him and he smiled as he finished his call with Molly. “I have to go now too, honey. It was so nice talking to you. Enlightening. I'll call again soon.”

“You better. Bye, Mohinder.”

“Goodbye, Molly.”

Sylar smiled, free hand toying with the bag strap on his shoulder. “How is she?”

“She is well. She asked if you're keeping me safe.”

“Did you tell her I'm putting you directly in mortal danger?”

“No, I lied.”

“You did not,” he grinned, eyes soft. 

“She learned something new - said she could see colors when she searches for people. Like what color people feel, not physical characteristics.”

Sylar tilted his head. “Like auras or something?”

“I guess.” He smiled. “She said that you're blue when you're with me.”

Sylar's face broke in a crooked confused smile. “Huh. What about you?”

“I'm orange.”

“That makes sense,” Sylar laughed. At Mohinder’s answering confusion, he explained, “Blue and orange are complimentary colors.”

“No they're not, they look terrible together.”

“Not complementary tasteful design-wise, complementary as in they are complete opposites. Putting blue next to orange makes it look more blue. And orange next to blue burns its brightest. The opposing color make the other more vibrant.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, that's what happens when you poke around the brain of an artist,” he winked. 

Mohinder rolled his eyes. “How can you make light of such terrible things?”

Sylar shrugged and looked away. “Too bad I never saw a psychologist’s brain. I could probably tell you about deflecting and defence mechanisms then.” He looked back with eyebrows raised. “But then again, you know all about that.”

“And there's that deflection again,” Mohinder huffed. 

“Yeah. It's a character flaw I'm working on.” He tapped his toes and fidgeted with the bag again. 

Mohinder ran his hand down Sylar's arm and asked, “Do you? Feel more blue with me?”

“I feel more like who I really am with you than I ever have before. You help me bring out the best man I can be.”

“I … didn't know that.”

“Hmm.” He brushed Mohinder’s hair behind his ear. “And I love to see you glow so bright.” 

He kissed Mohinder slow, soft brushes of wet lips. Mohinder’s hand curled around his arm and held him tight. 

Mohinder pulled back, resting his head on Sylar's cheek as he held him in a half embrace. 

He didn't know how orange was supposed to feel, but maybe the fullness in his chest was part of it.


	44. Chapter 44

Walking back to the hotel, Mohinder curled his arm around Sylar's back as a sneaky ruse to steal the bakery box. Sylar leaned into him to kiss his temple and Mohinder circled around him with a grin. “What did you get me?” he asked, gently shaking the box. 

 

Sylar smiled. “Pastries. A bakery down the street looked too good to pass up.”

 

“Mmm.” He peeked inside and grabbed one. “Oo, cherry.” He offered Sylar his choice as he bit into his own. Sylar waved him off. “Are you sure, it's amazing,” he gushed. 

 

“No. Thanks, I got them for you.” 

 

Mohinder bumped their shoulders together and couldn't resist another pastry as they walked. His phone rang and he stood helpless with icing on his fingers. 

 

“What would you do without me?” Sylar teased, kissing his cheek and sliding his hand possessively down his body to get the phone from his pocket. “Hello?” he answered as he watched Mohinder lick icing from his fingertips. “Oh it is? That's wonderful, thank you. We'll come pick it up. Uhhuh. Thank you again.”

 

“Let's go get the car,” Mohinder said. Sylar spun his phone between his fingers. He called for a cab and they waited on the corner.

 

“Thank you,” Sylar said quietly. 

 

“I didn't do anything.”

 

“No. No, you did.” Sylar toyed with the bag in his shoulder. They stood in silence and Sylar opened the cab door for Mohinder to slide in and continued their silence as they rode to the police station.

 

Mohinder filled out the paperwork to reclaim his car and Sylar hung back with his hands full. He paced the room until Mohinder swept him outside with a hand on his back. He sat in the driver's seat and Sylar put his load on the hood before be bent to inspect the front panel. Mohinder watched him, curious. 

 

As Sylar ducked in the car, he said, “We need to find a car wash.”

 

“It's still there?” Mohinder’s stomach turned to stone. Sylar nodded and they drove. 

 

“Did you …” Mohinder didn't know exactly what the verb for Sylar's power of clairsentience was so he waved his hand vaguely over the steering wheel. 

 

Sylar understood. “Yeah. A man in a hood, I couldn't see anything else. He really liked the blood in his hands.” Sylar grimaced and looked down at his own, clasped together in his lap. “He licked his fingers clean.”

 

“Oh my,” Mohinder’s stomach fell. “We have to stop him.”

 

Sylar put his hand on Mohinder’s leg, stroking the length of it firmly. “And we will. We'll leave first thing in the morning.”

 

“I don't think that's wise. We should leave now.”

 

“Mohinder.” He turned to face Sylar as he stopped at a red light. “We'll leave in the morning.”

 

Mohinder sighed. “If you think it's alright.”

 

“It is for  _ us _ .”

 

Mohinder relaxed a little at his words. He drove into a coin fed self wash and Sylar got out to scrub the blood off the front . He washed the whole car after doing so, waving Mohinder back into the car when he tried to help. 

 

He watched Sylar meticulously clean, getting weeks of caked-on dirt off. He got back in the car with his shirt damp, flicking soap off his hands out the door. Mohinder grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in, kissing him. “Thank you.”

 

“Mmmhmm,” Sylar leaned in to him, bubbles popping between his fingers as he slid his hand into Mohinder’s hair. “Let's go back, baby.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mohinder’s hands trailed over Sylar's shoulders, spinning with him as he turned to set the pastry box by the television. He stood on his toes and kissed him. Sylar pushed him back and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. 

 

“Mmm, I will never get tired of this,” he said, one hand trailing fingers down exposed flesh as the other worked the buttons. Mohinder moved to help him but Sylar froze his hands, pushing them back with his mind. Mohinder sighed in his hold. 

 

“You like that?” Sylar asked against his lips. 

 

“Yes.”

 

He finished with Mohinder’s shirt and slid it open over his smooth skin. “Which do you like more, my power or my hands?”

 

Mohinder threw his head back and felt Sylar's power catch him. He leaned back further, into the invisible touch as Sylar's hands caressed his chest. “Gods, Sylar, both.”

 

Sylar's hands rounded Mohinder’s ass, squeezing sharply as he pulled his hips forward. Mohinder felt telekenetic force pushing at his chest and holding him up between his shoulder blades and he shivered, moaning loud. 

 

“Sylar, please!”

 

Sylar kissed down his chest, swirling his tongue around his nipple as he worked back up. “Please, what?” he asked into the crook of Mohinder’s neck. 

 

Mohinder gasped, a third point of telekinesis rolling a solid touch over his cock. “Fuck me. Please!”

 

“You really want me to, don't you?”

 

Mohinder voiced a husky affirmation and Sylar walked him backward across the room. Before his legs hit the bed, Sylar lifted him in the air and tossed him in the center of the mattress. Mohinder arched his back and turned to watch Sylar undress. He let his knees fall open and smiled when Sylar’s hands faltered opening his pants. 

 

“Oh my god, Mohinder, you have no idea how much I want you,” Sylar said lowly as he crawled across the bed. He stuck his hand out and the lubricant flew into his palm; Mohinder ached at the implication, a needy sound rising from his throat. 

 

Hovering over Mohinder with his power holding his limbs down, Sylar was in complete control. The cocky half grin on his face sent arousal burning through Mohinder’s body. 

 

His hold slipped as he kissed Mohinder hard, bodies pressing together as Mohinder used his freed limbs and pulled Sylar down. He planted one foot on the bed and wound the other leg around Sylar's ass, pulling and pushing their hips together in a desperate grind. 

 

Sylar's mouth fell open and Mohinder grinned, using his hands to push himself up harder. “Please,” he begged.

 

Sylar pulled back and kissed down his neck. “You've never done this,” he confirmed, one dry finger curling against Mohinder’s entrance. Mohinder shook his head, words gone in anticipation. “Never a wandering finger while you're getting blown? Never curiosity by yourself?”

 

“No! No, do it, please.”

 

Sylar sat back on his calves and flicked open the lube with one hand, the other still teasing. “No,” he said simply. 

 

“Yes! Yes, what do you mean no, I want you!”

 

“Mmm. Say that again.” He lifted Mohinder off the bed by his hips and dribbled cold lube down his perenium, catching it before it rolled to the sheets.

 

“I want you. I want you. Please, I want you,” Mohinder begged, gasping as Sylar circled one finger around his hole. 

 

“Not yet. One finger will feel like enough, don't worry.”

 

“Damnit, I won't break, you're not that big!” He could taste the lie on his tongue; Sylar felt plenty intimidating against him,  _ inside _ , Mohinder was expecting that to hurt. 

 

Sylar leaned over him, pressing against his anus enough to edge it open and shut around his fingertip. “What do you expect lying to get you? Do you _ want  _ me to hurt you?” Sylar asked, head tilted. 

 

Mohinder writhed on the bed, trying to take more of Sylar's finger. “I wouldn't … yes, right there … would not be completely adverse to it.”

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar gasped, control falling apart under the confession. He pressed his middle finger slowly in, Mohinder moaning as his knuckles pushed in solidly. Sylar thrust his long finger in quickly and pulled out excruciatingly slow, watching his hand work Mohinder’s ass. Mohinder watched Sylar's face - his wide, wondering eyes, open lips, the flush across his cheeks. He grasped at the sheets, catching Sylar's attention. Sylar wound their fingers together and bent over him as his hand continued moving. 

 

Sylar crooked his finger, feeling pleasantly bigger inside Mohinder. “Another,” Mohinder demanded. Sylar hummed against his lips and complied. He slid his index finger in on an upstroke, stroking his thumb across Mohinder’s perenium before pressing against it hard. Mohinder felt like Sylar's hand was everywhere. 

 

Mohinder tried to raise his hips so Sylar could get deeper but he had no traction with his ass in the air. “More,” he begged. Sylar kissed under his ribcage before maneuvering their bodies so he wiggled his shoulder under Mohinder’s knee, raising his leg and pushing it back against his chest.

 

He continued to thrust his fingers in Mohinder quickly and dragged them out slow, making him writhe. The sharp thrusts knocked Mohinder’s breath loose and he gasped. “Yes, yes,” he repeated with Sylar's slow pulls, feeling his knuckles bump against the tight clench of his anus. 

 

Sylar tore his eyes away to grab the lube, turning his fingers over and pouring more over them before he twisted them, screwing into Mohinder’s pliant ass. 

 

Mohinder threw his head back into the pillows, a shout dying in his throat with every upward twist. “Sylar! Sylar - please!” He grabbed Sylar's wrist. “Hold me - please - hold me  _ down _ .”

 

Sylar looked at him incredulously. Mohinder nodded, eyes begging. Sylar sat back on his legs and slowed his thrusting, raising a whine from Mohinder’s throat. Sylar shook Mohinder’s hand from him and wrapped his thumb and forefinger around his wrist tight. He held Mohinder’s wrist and grabbed his other between his other fingers and pressed them down into the pillows over his head. 

 

Mohinder’s panting sped up and Sylar watched his cock jerk against his stomach. 

 

“Harder,” he demanded. Sylar leaned over him, almost draped across his body, and kissed him as he worked his hand faster. Two fingers in and out and twisting, brushing against his prostate periodically and sending waves of pleasure through Mohinder’s gut. 

 

His fingers gripped dead air, Sylar's hands holding him firm. He struggled against the hold and Sylar leaned his shoulder heavily on Mohinder’s chest. His hips pressed against him, hard cock rubbing the joint of his hip.  Mohinder tilted his head back, feeling his orgasm impending. 

 

Sylar latched onto his neck, scraping his teeth and sucking hard. He laid on top of Mohinder with his full weight, hands heavy on his wrists, and Mohinder could hardly breathe. Sylar fucked into him harder, kissing up to his mouth. 

 

Mohinder bit at Sylar's lips instead of warning him, body arching off the bed as he came. He whined against Sylar's tongue. Sylar kissed him as he struggled, moaning as Mohinder’s come spread in a puddle between them. 

 

He didn't stop his hand, instead played a third finger around Mohinder’s entrance as he continued to thrust. Mohinder gasped, jerking his hips and trying to capture the finger. 

 

Sylar smiled against his mouth. “You want it?” Mohinder nodded, nose rubbing against Sylar's and lips catching his. He tried to kiss him but his face felt numb. “You can handle more?” Mohinder whined and answered with a thrust of his hips. 

 

Sylar pushed up and off him, hand grinding Mohinder’s wrists together excruciatingly. If he could come again so soon, Mohinder would have right then under the pressure. 

 

Sylar looked down his body, a pleasured moan escaping his lips - Mohinder was pleased to see them swollen and red. 

 

“Fuck me,” he begged. Sylar's eyes snapped back to his face. He lifted Mohinder’s slack arms and adjusted his hold as he pressed his wrists down in the center of his chest. Mohinder stared at him over his folded hands as Sylar bent to lap the come off his stomach. Mohinder’s flagging erection jerked and Sylar took him in his mouth as he pressed the third finger into his body. 

 

Mohinder gasped a silent scream, too much stimulation running through his body. He scratched restlessly at his chest.

 

Sylar fucked him slowly, his wide fingers spreading him open. He alternated between sucking Mohinder’s dick down his throat and licking at the come on his belly. 

 

Mohinder couldn't take any more but couldn't say so, couldn't even tap out. He threw his head back and tried to hold on. 

 

Sylar's fingers brushed his prostate and that was the last straw. He looked down, finding Sylar's wide eyes on him, his cock down his throat, and he came again. 

 

Sylar gasped as his cock jerked in his mouth. Mohinder felt his anus tighten enough Sylar's fingers were stuck mid stroke. He watched his cock bounce in Sylar's open, surprised mouth. 

 

Sylar's hands tightened on his wrists as he licked up Mohinder’s sensitive dick, pulling off. He took one finger at a time out - the wet sound of it obscene in the silent room. 

 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, swaying up onto his knees. “Baby, oh my  _ god _ .” He balanced himself over Mohinder, half his weight pressing deliciously against his wrists. 

 

Mohinder didn't have control of his mouth back and just gaped up, overwhelmed. Sylar gently kissed the corner of his lips. Mohinder closed his eyes and felt him kiss over his face and lips, muttering affirmations and awed praise. 

 

“I'm going to release your hands, now,” he said against Mohinder’s mouth. Mohinder nodded and felt Sylar slowly unwrap his fingers. His hands were numb against his chest. Sylar shuffled up to straddle his stomach and brought his wrists to his mouth, kissing them and soothing them with rubbing thumbs. “That was so good, baby,” he said between kisses. 

 

Mohinder nodded and slowly raised his knees, using them to inch Sylar up his body. He wrapped his hand around Sylar's and dragged him down to a kiss. Sylar moaned into his mouth rubbing his cock between their stomachs. 

 

Mohinder slid his hand between them and stroked his fingertips around Sylar's sensitive head. “Baby,” he moaned against Mohinder’s lips before biting his own. Mohinder felt lust overtake him and he threw Sylar off. 

 

“Up. Up, up, up, come on,” he urged, backing a surprised Sylar to stand by the bed. He slid off behind him and to his knees. 

 

Sylar ran his hand through Mohinder’s sweaty hair. “Honey, you don't have to.”

 

Mohinder wrapped his hands up Sylar's thighs and nipped ever so gently at his cockhead. “Want to,” he replied, looking up through his eyelashes at Sylar's awed face. Sylar nodded and he slid his tongue over the slit at the end of Sylar's cock. 

 

“Ooh, my god,” Sylar leaned back, anchored by his hand in Mohinder’s hair. 

 

Mohinder swirled his tongue around the tip of Sylar's leaking cock, melting as the taste of him filled his mouth, the smell of arousal thick around him. He held the base of Sylar's cock and took him slowly into his mouth, wanting to look up but unable to look away. He stroked his hand up and down Sylar's length, watching his pink skin slide between his spread fingers. 

 

Sylar's fingers tightened and he ran his other hand down Mohinder’s face, catching his attention. 

 

Mohinder looked up and moaned. Sylar was watching him with lust dark eyes, hand curling in his hair. His cock was heavy on his tongue. He watched his chest heave - quick, shallow breaths, and Mohinder slowed his hand’s pace. 

 

Carefully, he slid further down Sylar's dick, his mouth opening wide. His lip caught on the thick vein running the bottom of Sylar's cock and he dropped his hands to dig into Sylar's thighs. 

 

Sylar's moans and heavy panting breaths filled the air. 

 

Mohinder ran his tongue side to side on the bottom of Sylar's cock and felt his fingers tighten in his hair. He traced the sensitive edge of the glans and felt Sylar shiver. He ran his hands up Sylar's legs and over his hips, thumbs edging along the base of his cock as he pulled back to flick his tongue along the slit.

 

“Oh god, Mohinder,” Sylar breathed. 

 

He licked his lips and slid Sylar's head into his mouth again, sucking hard before swallowing a little more. He exhaled a sharp gasp as Sylar thrust unconsciously. 

 

“Oh, sorry, sorry sorry, oh god,” Sylar's mouth fell open into silence and he pushed Mohinder’s hair from his face, watching Mohinder as worked his mouth further down his cock. His hands were touching Sylar everywhere else - one twisting at his base, one rolling his balls as they pulled toward his body. 

 

Mohinder slowly pulled off, his tongue trailing one last lap through the precome thick at the tip. 

 

Sylar huffed at the loss of his mouth but didn't complain as Mohinder wrapped his hands down his length, twisting and tightening his grip at the tip and watching Sylar lose control. 

 

One hand was still in his hair, not pulling but tangled so every movement he made was transmitted straight down Mohinder’s nerves. 

Sylar tilted his head back and pushed his hips forward. Mohinder moved both hands in opposite strokes down his cock, never losing contact or sensation. He barely heard Sylar beg, “Say my name.”

 

“Sylar,” he purred. He kissed the tip of his cock between the circle of his fingers. 

 

“No,” Sylar looked down, eyes desperate. 

 

Mohinder bit his lip and sighed, “Gabriel.”

 

Sylar gasped and his cock jumped in Mohinder’s hand. Mohinder lowered his angle so as he came it hit in spurts over his chest and stomach and one low over his hips, just grazing his own cock. 

 

Sylar stood tall, shaking and breathless. Mohinder tried to slow his own breathing, but glancing down and seeing Sylar's mark on him riled him up so much. He fell to sit on his legs, hands running up Sylar's hips and sides as one last drop of come oozed free. 

 

Eyes meeting Sylar's, he ran his tongue up his dick, lapping up the come and moaning as he wrapped his mouth around Sylar again. 

 

Sylar took his face between his hands and pulled him forward down his dick once before pulling him off with a pop. He fell to his knees and tried to maintain eye contact, but his eyes kept falling to the come sprayed  across Mohinder’s skin. 

 

“Do you like that?” Mohinder asked breathlessly. 

 

Sylar nodded and pushed at his shoulders. Mohinder fell back, thighs screaming as he caught himself on his elbows, watching Sylar roll his eyes over him. 

 

“Why don't you draw a picture, it'll last longer,” he teased. His gruff voice surprised him and he sucked on his lips nervously. They tasted like Sylar’s skin.

 

Sylar leaned forward and Mohinder stretched up toward his lips, still pink and full from kissing earlier. Sylar cocked a tiny half smile and dodged down his body, keeping eye contact as he slid his tongue up his chest, eyes losing focus as he ran through a rope of his own spent come. He swiped it off with a flourish and Mohinder caught him by the hair on the back of his neck, pulling him up for a kiss. 

 

Sylar moaned, resting his weight on his hands braced around Mohinder as he let Mohinder’s tongue chase his own.  He licked the remaining come from his mouth. Mohinder bit down on his lip as he pulled away, holding him just a second. Sylar smeared come from Mohinder’s stomach with his thumb and pressed it to Mohinder’s lips.

 

Mohinder groaned and dragged his teeth down Sylar's thumb as he let it slip in his mouth. He swirled his tongue, licking up all the come. 

 

“Oh god,” Sylar breathed, leaving his thumb in Mohinder’s mouth as he moved down his body, hungrily licking the stripe of come across his dick. His moans vibrated up Mohinder’s body as he slid his lips around his cock. 

 

His thumb slid from between Mohinder’s lips as he took his cock fully in his mouth. 

 

“Come here, baby, come here. I want to kiss you,” Mohinder pleaded. Sylar rubbed his tongue hard against his dick as he pulled off. He had a dopey grin across his face as he crawled back over Mohinder. “What?” Mohinder asked. 

 

Chewing his lip and shaking his head, Sylar answered, “Nothing. Baby.” He kissed the corner of his mouth and Mohinder smiled. Sylar dropped his body onto his and rubbed their hips together. 

 

Sylar was hot and hard against him and Mohinder gasped. “How are you so hard again?”

 

Sylar shyly met his eyes. He shrugged, “I think it's the healing.”

 

Mohinder gaped. “No.” Sylar nodded. “Fuck. How long? How many? Oh gods, how many times can I make you come?”

 

Sylar shivered and bit his lip. “Donno.”

 

“Gonna find out. Oh damn, you're amazing.”

 

Sylar moaned and buried his face in the crook of Mohinder’s neck. Mohinder let his hand travel down Sylar's body, set on seeing exactly how many times he could come.  


	45. Chapter 45

Traffic jams and construction pointed their car north into Wyoming on a roundabout way to Seattle. Mohinder was trying not to blank out starting at the flat scenery but Sylar was getting more restless the further into the Cowboy State they got. 

 

“What is your damn problem?” Mohinder snapped as Sylar readjusted his legs for the tenth time in four minutes. He was sitting cross legged, bony knee tucked against the gearshift. If Mohinder had to downshift, he'd get knocked. 

 

“No damn problem,” he said, unfolding his legs and tucking his feet up on the seat, hugging his knees. 

 

“Really? You're acting like a child. Do you need to stop, get out?” He pointed to a sign for a rest stop a few miles ahead. “We can take a break.” Even though they hadn't been driving long. Mohinder didn't want to stop, he wanted to get to Seattle as fast as possible. He had even kicked Sylar out of bed, literally with his feet, instead of giving in to waking him with sex. 

 

Next time. 

 

Mohinder blinked to clear the thought of Sylar's sleepy face waking under his as he gripped his cock. No time for that. 

 

Sylar sighed. “Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous.”

 

“Why?” A shrug was his only answer. “Do you want to talk?”

 

“No. I'm fine.”

 

Mohinder glared at him. “Then sit the hell still.” Sylar watched him and didn't move. Mohinder’s serious face fell into a smile and he patted Sylar's thigh. 

 

It was Mohinder’s turn to pick the music so they were quiet as Led Zeppelin filled the air. Sylar nodded to the beat but didn't seem to know any lyrics. 

 

Mohinder tried not to think as he drove, finding a sort of trance state as he stared ahead at the open highway. 

 

Sylar leaned over the center consol and muttered in Mohinder’s ear “Keep driving.”

 

“Hmm?” Mohinder turned from the empty road in front of them to face Sylar's heavy lidded eyes next to him. 

 

Sylar used his fingertips to push Mohinder’s face back forwards. “Just drive, baby.” He wrapped his hand high around Mohinder’s thigh, kissing up the side of his face as Mohinder gasped. 

 

“Sylar!” He held the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip as he felt Sylar's hands dance up his fly, unbuttoning his slacks. 

 

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to do this last time we were here.” He pulled Mohinder’s zipper down tooth by tooth. 

 

“Sylar, I'm driving,” he moaned as Sylar grabbed his already half hard cock over his briefs. 

 

“I know. That's half the fun.” He bit Mohinder’s ear lobe gently and stroked the fabric over his balls. “Oh, I like these, these are sexy. I didn't watch you get dressed this morning.”

 

Mohinder shivered and twisted the leather covering the steering wheel. He was fully hard already against Sylar's hand. 

 

“Sylar, seriously. You're crazy.”

 

“You make me crazy,” his voice rumbled as he took Mohinder’s cock out of his fly, pushing the foreskin back and rubbing over the head with his thumb. “Fuck, baby.” He bent and licked the tip with his whole tongue. He had to curve around the gearshift and rest his hand on Mohinder’s seat for balance.

 

“Fuck!” Mohinder started to pull to the side of the highway. 

 

Sylar nuzzled his cock and tilted his head, making eye contact. “Don't you dare pull over.”

 

Mohinder moaned loud and pulled back onto the road. He ran his fingers through Sylar's hair as he mouthed down his dick, sucking and kissing. Mohinder tilted his hips and pushed them forward. 

 

Sylar groaned as he swallowed Mohinder to the root. Mohinder gasped as he felt Sylar's throat contract around his head, hand tightening in his hair. Sylar pushed his left leg against the door, opening his thighs more. 

 

Mohinder tried to keep his eyes on the road but between the moaning man on his dick and the urge to close his eyes and throw his head back in pleasure, he wasn't looking the moment they swerved to the dirt in the shoulder. Before he could correct it, Sylar had moved the car back on track with his mind. Mohinder felt the steering wheel turn under his hands and knew intimately that Sylar was still fully engaged with his cock. The show of power and concentration was intense and Mohinder felt his cock jump in response. 

 

Sylar growled and squeezed the base in his dick with strong fingers, staving off Mohinder’s imminent orgasm. He pulled off slowly, voice rougher than usual as he ground out, “I'm not done with you yet.”

 

“Please, oh Sylar please,” he begged as Sylar's mouth moved to kiss his thighs under the thick weave of his slacks. He threaded his fingers in the short hair on the back of his neck and tired to urge him back to his dick. 

 

“Patience, baby.” His moved and began to lick the cotton briefs over Mohinder’s balls, nose rubbing the underside of his cock while he did. 

 

Mohinder felt himself coming undone. He moved his hand from Sylar’s head, lest he force him back down his cock. He trailed it over Sylar's body, stretched between the two seats, and pulled up his shirt. He stroked his ribcage and Sylar licked up his length and swallowed just the head. 

 

He sucked hard, humming in pleasure. Mohinder cried out as the vibrations rocked through him. 

 

He focused on keeping the car straight toward the horizon line and Sylar swallowed him whole again. He brushed his fingers against the wet fabric over Mohinder’s balls, stroking and sucking and moaning until he felt Mohinder’s balls tighten.  

 

Mohinder’s hand clawed at his skin and Sylar undid his seatbelt telekinetically and he rolled to his knees in his seat, hands on Mohinder’s thighs, and sucked him to the back of his throat as he came with a wail. 

 

Mohinder slammed his palm against the steering wheel as he came deep in Sylar's mouth. He rolled his other hand down Sylar's back and into his pants, grabbing his ass cheek with strong fingertips.

 

Sylar rolled the come around his mouth as he pulled off Mohinder, swirling it around his dick and swiping it back off with his tongue. He sat up on his knees, mouth open just enough Mohinder could see his come pooled on his tongue before he swallowed. 

 

“Oh fuck,” Mohinder groaned. Sylar bit his lip and looked at him with lust blown eyes. 

 

He was so hard in his jeans; Mohinder reached out to stroke him but Sylar pulled back. “Uhuhh,” he chastised as he did. “This was exactly what I wanted.” He looked shy and asked, “Okay?”

 

Mohinder looked at him, kneeling there with cheeks red and lips slightly swollen, hard cock perfectly outlined in his jeans. “Okay,” he whispered. Sylar smiled. Mohinder glanced out the windshield and back. He bit his lips before promising, “Later, though.”

 

Sylar nodded, breathing fast. He leaned back over to Mohinder and tucked his softening cock back in his briefs, making him shiver as he was tucked into wet fabric.  Sylar did up Mohinder’s pants and kissed his cheekbone by his eye before he turned right in his seat and buckled. 

 

Mohinder checked the dashboard and saw he had been driving thirty miles an hour under the speed limit. “Oh shit,” he laughed. He looked over at Sylar and the lust written on his face and he shivered. “Oh shit, Sylar.”

 

Sylar grinned and leaned against his window to watch the road through the windshield and sneak glances at Mohinder while he drove. 

 


	46. Chapter 46

Mohinder was curled under the thrift store blanket contemplating moving to the backseat to stretch out as Sylar drove, cautious as the roads had been covered in snow for the last couple hours. He had the music low and his humming was lulling Mohinder toward sleep before he got too serious about moving. Mohinder shut his eyes and stopped thinking. 

 

A minute or an hour later, Mohinder jerked awake as Sylar slammed on the brakes and edged off, barely saving them from skidding out. As his eyes flew open, he saw the car ahead of them hadn't been so lucky. 

 

“Shit!” He was wide awake then, heart racing as he saw the car spin and spin and spin on the ice, hitting the snowbank and bouncing off. 

 

Sylar threw the car in neutral and didn't look at him as he ordered, “Steering wheel!” He was halfway out of the car when Mohinder nudged the Volvo against the snowbank to a stop. Throwing the emergency brake, he got out in a sliding sprint toward the spinning car, finally slowing it's spiral. 

 

Sylar was airborne, past the runaway car. He turned back to face Mohinder, yelling louder than human lungs should be able to: “Hit and run. I'll get the runner, you check on the hit.”

 

Mohinder nodded, reaching for the car and grabbing the bumper, feet sliding on the icy road as he tried to stop the spinning with nothing but his arms. He pushed through from his legs and hips, momentum turning the car the other way to rest its hood inside the snow piled on the side of the road. His arms shook as he released the car, seeing the driver whip back upright.

 

He leapt into gear, holding the car as his shoes slid on the ice, gliding more than walking over to the door. He wrenched it open - it was completely smashed in. His shoulder protested but be ignored it. “Ma’am! Are you alright?”

 

She looked up at him, blinking and shellshocked. Her voice was weak but she answered, “Yes.”

 

“Hold on, okay?” He looked up for Sylar, seeing him floating a couple feet off the ground, hand raised toward a second car limping away on a crooked wheel. As he watched, a sheet of ice rose from the ground like a wave, acting as both a blockade and boomerang, sending the car back toward Sylar. It's three good wheels spun but had no traction on the ice sheet. 

 

Mohinder saw the car gaining speed as it rolled straight for Sylar and he took off, set on catching it before they collided. He slid on the ice, cartwheeling his arms to stay upright, and heard Sylar yell at him. He saw the ice melt right under his feet, a stripe of clear road appearing in front of him, and he ran, throwing his hip and shoulder against the barreling sedan. It stopped and he couldn't see the driver. 

 

“What are you doing? Idiot!” Sylar was next to him, face red with the cold and his anger. “You're going to get hurt!”

 

“Was gonna hit you,” he wheezed, hoping his ribs weren’t bruised. “Shit.”

 

Sylar floated higher in the air, over the car's roofline, arms thrown out to his sides, showing he could have gotten out of the way himself. “Idiot,” he swore again as he landed next to Mohinder. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer as he touched Mohinder’s side. 

 

Mohinder held back a wince. Ribs probably bruised. “Yes. I'm going back,” he shook his head at the wrecked car, seeing the woman move slowly in the front seat. 

 

“Is she okay?”

 

“I think so.” Sylar held onto his arm, floating to steady him on the icy road. They both heard a car door behind them and turned, Sylar with his arms raised. He stopped the stumbling driver as he started ambling down the road, frozen with his hands to the side, one foot dragging behind in an arrested step. 

Mohinder touched Sylar's hip, level with his eyes, and said, “Get him. I'll go for her, I'm okay.” Sylar looked back at him then continued toward the wannabe hit and run driver. 

 

Mohinder walked carefully to the damaged car and watched the woman turn in the seat, feet on the ground out the busted door. She stamped them, whether to warm them or just feel them, Mohinder didn't know, but her movement must have unbalanced the car and it spun and slid further into the snow. 

 

As it tilted, Mohinder watched, confused.  It shouldn't tilt. He saw the front wheel leave the ground and the woman's feet dangle and he threw off his confusion and ran. “Sylar!” he yelled, watching the snowbank break away to a steep downhill. “Sylar!” he was choking on the panic in his voice. He was so close to the car, to the woman panicking silently and begging him with her eyes, begging to be saved. 

 

Mohinder reached out his hand and missed her as the car turned; he grabbed the door and planted his heels the best he could, sinking in the snow to hit gravel. 

 

The door joints squealed, his muscles burned. Tons of vehicle and one scared woman dangled from his tenuous grip, and he was losing them. He couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't keep his balance and the car kept turning, yanking him to the edge and over. 

 

He let go of the door and grabbed for the woman, catching her coat sleeve and last two fingers. His body wrenched backwards in the air, stopping his fall, and he tightened his grip on the woman as Sylar pulled them up. Sylar held the car in place and dragged it up, too.

 

They fell in a heap as he saw Sylar's arms collapse heavily at his sides next to them. Mohinder sank back first into the snow, unable to get a full breath of air. The woman sat up across from him. 

 

Sylar sank to his knees and pulled Mohinder up, eyes frantic as he looked him over. “Oh my god,” punched from his lungs as he wrapped Mohinder in his arms. “Baby, I thought … oh god.”

 

“M’okay.” He held Sylar just as tight, chest on fire as his ribs were squeezed. “ _ We're _ okay.”

 

Sylar turned to the woman who nodded with a raised hand, and buried his face back in Mohinder’s neck. A silent sob shook him and he stilled as Mohinder scratched over his scalp.  Mohinder’s ass was going numb in the snow and he was wearing just a sweater, his top half wasn't faring much better. 

 

“Come on. You did it, but we have to get up, ” he told Sylar hesitantly. Snow was starting to fall thicker around them and the wind whipped Mohinder’s hair. He needed to get it cut. He pushed at Sylar's shoulder, gently because his own was starting to lock up. He had wrenched it good. Sylar looked calm except for his eyes when he pulled back and helped Mohinder up gingerly. 

 

“I told you you'd hurt yourself,” he groused. Mohinder waved him off and helped the woman stand. She looked shaken but steady. Mohinder checked her quickly for visible injuries, saying he was a doctor but not specifying of what. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked. She nodded,  looking from her car to the broken snowbank and back. 

 

A quick glance around told him Sylar had gone back to the other driver to check on him. He heard him come back quickly, muttering angrily under his breath.

 

“He's incoherent. Might be drunk. I told him to take a nap.”

 

Mohinder shook his head and turned to the woman. “What happened?”

 

“I was driving, slow in the snow, and he was behind me, seemed normal. But when he passed me, he got all squirrelly, hit me, bounced and hit me again, that's when I started to spin. Thank you,” she grabbed Mohinder’s hands and looked over his shoulder at Sylar, “Thank you both for saving me.”

 

“You’re alright? I'll call the cops, get someone out here.” Sylar went back to the car, snow crunching under his boots as he walked. If he wasn't wearing black, he would have disappeared in the snowfall. He came back with his phone in hand but didn't dial. He stopped in front of the woman. “You can't tell anyone about us. You didn't see us, you won't remember our faces.”

 

“Of course I won't tell. But I'll remember you. It's not every day my life gets saved.”

 

Sylar glanced over at Mohinder and back at the woman. “No. Forget us.” The wind picked up, blowing snow around them. 

 

“Why? Because you're powered? Don't worry about that,” she said, snapping her fingers between their faces. Mohinder jumped back as sparks flew from get fingertips and momentarily ignited the surrounding air. Sylar's eyes lit up. 

 

“Woah, careful,” Mohinder said at the same time Sylar breathed, “Cool.” They looked at each other, Mohinder waving Sylar's delighted smile away. Back to the woman, he added, “Really. There's someone dangerous hunting powered people, you can't be too careful.”

 

“Oh, I know that, too. He told me.”

 

“Who?” Sylar asked. “The other driver?” he pointed to the car behind them. 

 

She shrugged. “No. I didn't know him, but he said we were being hunted. For our powers. He had a message for you two, though. He said he's tired of his game, he's going to end it. He's going to be waiting for you in San Francisco. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. He said thank …” she paused and looked at the two of them, eyes settling on Mohinder, “ _ You _ for your help, you made everything much easier. And  _ you,” _ she turned to Sylar, “He wanted to leave you a little taste of what to expect. So hurry, because this isn't the last.” She winked and took a step back, toying with the front of her coat. She was twitchy, unable to still her limbs. 

 

Mohinder looked at Sylar, both of them confused. “What do you mean? Who told you this? How did you know it was for  _ us _ ?” Mohinder asked her. He glanced back at the inebriated driver's car in suspicion. 

 

The woman didn't answer as her hands curled in the sleeves of her coat. She closed her eyes, face slowly screwing into an expression of pain. A wail flew from her mouth as a single drop of blood rolled down her neck from under her hair. 

 

“Are you alright?” Sylar put a hand out toward her. Mohinder thought maybe she had been injured and he hadn't seen it; he took Sylar's phone from his hand as Sylar touched her arm, prepared to call for an ambulance. 

 

Her legs gave out and Sylar caught her. As they watched, blood poured from a line across her forehead, as if she was attacked with a garrote.

 

She screamed, mouth bubbling under the blood. Sylar was yelling, Mohinder was frozen. He watched as her body went slack and silent in Sylar's arms, blood pouring over the both of them and onto the fresh snow. 

 

Sylar collapsed, the body falling with him. Her skull was loose and Sylar struggled to keep it from sliding off her brain. 

 

“Mohinder!” He shook himself and focused on Sylar. “How does a blood transfusion work?” Sylar was wide eyed with panic as he yelled back at Mohinder. 

 

“What? Can't, no needles.” He felt numb, and not just from the cold. 

 

“Does it matter what vein?”

 

“What? You're not making sense.”

 

“Goddamnit,” he muttered taking off his soaked long sleeve shirt. He bit his wrist, Mohinder flinched at the violent jerk of his head as he tore into his flesh. 

 

“Sylar,” Mohinder fell to his knees next to him, watching blood pour from his arm and over the woman's face. “The fuck are you doing?”

 

Sylar's torn flesh reknit in front of their eyes and he swore again, tearing back into the thin skin. He laid the woman on the ground; Mohinder automatically snapped her skull back in to place. “What are you doing?!”  He snapped. 

 

“I heal. You brought Bennett back with Claire's blood, yes?”

 

“In a lab with the proper equipment, you can't just bleed on her and hope it'll work!”

 

Sylar's eyes were dead serious as they stared Mohinder down. “Then show me which vein.”

 

Mohinder glared but Sylar wouldn't budge. “You can't be serious,” he said as he pointed to a vein on the back of the woman's limp hand. “This won't work.”

 

“I have to try,” Sylar croaked, laying his finger over the vein and puncturing her skin with precision. “I have to try,” he repeated, slicing up his inner arm with telekinesis and coralling his spilt blood into a thin stream, leading it down to the slowly oozing hole in the woman's vein. The two crimson liquids met and Sylar closed his eyes to concentrate, pushing his blood into her.

 

“This is so stupid.” Mohinder didn't dare breathe. “This is dangerous, Sylar, even if your blood brings her back.” He couldn't help but lean closer, watching Sylar's fine control. As the stream of his blood tapered to a slow trickle, he opened his wound again. The gash made Mohinder’s stomach turn but he couldn't look away. He babbled through his unease: “She could have incompatible blood and have a reaction, her body could attack the foreign cells, she could go into shock -”

 

“I’m a universal donor. O negative, she'll be  _ fine. _ ”

 

Mohinder itched to touch Sylar's hand but held back as to not distract him. “If her blood enters your bloodstream, though, you might not be.”

 

Sylar glanced up, eyebrow raised. It was the third time Mohinder had seen his face smeared with his own blood - nausea washed over him as he remembered the feeling of Sylar's bones cracking under his fist. He swallowed it and continued, “What we don't know about your powers, about any evolved human's powers, leaves too much unknown to be so careless.”

 

“Then I'll be careful. I'm in control, Mohinder.” He looked at him with a hint of a smile. 

 

His control was shaken when the corpse between them sputtered a wet breath and twitched. Sylar quickly stopped the flow of blood, flicking the remainder to the side. The red red blood looked hyperreal on the snow. 

 

Mohinder watched her bone, then flesh and skin mend next to his hand. He pulled back, no longer needing to keep her head together. She blinked through the blood in her eyelashes and screamed. 

 

“Whoa! Whoa, it's okay!” Sylar grabbed her shoulders to still her but he made her panic worsen. Mohinder shooed him off, trying to help the woman but she shrank from him too, still screaming. Sylar stripped and handed him his undershirt to wipe blood from the woman's face. He traded Sylar for the phone and heard him dial as he fought against flailing arms to clear away some blood. 

 

“There's been an accident.” Sylar told the operator the gist of what had happened and where they were. He hung up when he was done, not risking waiting on the line. He hovered his hand over Mohinder’s leg. “We should leave,” he said softly. 

 

“What about her?” Mohinder tried again to help her up but she pushed him. “She's … I can't help if you don't calm down!” he failed not to snap at the woman. “She's covered in your blood,” he reminded Sylar under his breath. 

 

“I told the dispatcher she had a possible head injury. They'll assume it's all hers.”

 

“And if they don't?”

 

Sylar shrugged. 

 

The woman coughed, dragging their attention back. “What happened? Oh god, did I fall off a cliff?”

 

“Sort of,” Sylar said. 

 

Mohinder elbowed him. “Ma'am, are you alright?” 

 

“Joy.” 

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“My name. Joy. Why can't I remember why I'm on the ground?” She wouldn't meet either of their eyes. 

 

With a sigh, Mohinder explained what he could. “You were in a car accident, you were hit and spun out of control. You -”

 

“We were able to save you, remember?” Sylar cut in. 

 

Slowly, Joy nodded. “Yes. Yes, I remember getting hit, I remember falling …” she was quiet. Mohinder could hear the wind picking up and he held back from shivering. The woman looked up, “I remember. Thank you.”

 

“What else do you remember? You told us something after the accident, someone told you about us? About how people are being hunted for their powers?” Mohinder pressed. “Do you remember anything else - who told you, if they said anything else?”

 

She shook her head. “No. No, the words feel familiar, but I don't know why.” She shivered, looking small in her winter coat. “Why is there so much blood?” she asked meekly. 

 

Sylar looked around them at the blood spread under them. Mohinder motioned to his face and hands, smeared with blood past his elbow, and told Joy, “He got hurt. He's fine now.”

 

Joy sobbed. “But why is there so much blood? What happened? Why can't I remember?”

 

“You passed out,” Sylar soothed. “Must have been the stress from the accident. An ambulance is on the way.” Her hysteria worsened and Mohinder tried to calm her. She cried and shut her eyes, as if not seeing the aftermath would change the facts.

 

Mohinder gave up on helping and stood, pulling Sylar up by a clean elbow. His skin was freezing and pale with blood loss. “What about him?” he nodded to the other car. 

 

Sylar shook his head. “I asked him what happened, I thought he was bullshitting me when he said he was told to hit her, said it was a game. I thought he was wasted.”

 

Mohinder’s eyebrows flew up in disbelief. “So he knows we're here - he set a trap for us.”

 

“Yes. And changed his plan, told us where the next move will be.”

 

Mohinder placed a hand on Sylar's hip, pointing him to the Volvo. “Let's make this move his last.” 

 

Sylar nodded. He took his bloodied undershirt from Mohinder and walked back to Joy, still crumpled on the ground. His discarded shirt was in the ground near her, blood seeping from the fabric into the snow. 

 

“Joy?” he said, knowing he caught her attention when she shook at his voice. “You're going to be alright.” She finally looked up. Somewhere in his bloodied visage she saw it was true and she calmed almost instantly. Mohinder wondered if Sylar had influenced her. “An ambulance is coming, for you and for the man in the other car. He's alright, too, you understand? I just need to do one thing before they get here.” He motioned for her to get up and move and she did. 

 

Mohinder wrapped his arms around his freezing body as he watched Sylar throw his undershirt on the ground with the other and shut his eyes in concentration. The ground under his feet quivered and Joy stepped back further. As Mohinder watched, brown earth rose up from under the snow, swallowing the clothes and bloodied snow in a great roil of dirt. Sylar swept his hand wide and snow drifted over the earth; with a push in the air, he rebuilt the snowbank Joy’s car had busted through. 

 

The scene looked like nothing more than a traffic collision on a whiteout early evening.

 

Sylar sighed. He turned back to Joy. “They can't know we were here,” he said again. She nodded, and Sylar after her. Mohinder blinked, shocked from the display of power, and walked to Sylar's side. He held his hand, ice cold fingers stiff between his. Sylar's head perked to the side. “Sirens,” he said. 

 

He moved with Mohinder slowly to the car, legs looking weak. “Are you alright?” Mohinder asked, concerned. 

 

“Yeah, it just takes a while to reproduce that much blood. We should find somewhere to eat.”

 

“We should find you a shower.” Mohinder tried not to look too hard at him - even splattered in blood and too pale he was a tantalizing sight in the snow. He wanted to touch through the hair in the center of Sylar's chest to make sure his skin was still underneath. So he did. “You're too cold.” Sylar nodded. 

 

At the car, Sylar shook his head at the offer of clothes and Mohinder wrapped him in the blanket, kissing his forehead and sitting him down. They didn't leave until Mohinder’s human hearing picked up the sound of approaching sirens. They left Joy alive in the rear view mirror. 


	47. Chapter 47

Mohinder turned from the road to see Sylar buried in the blanket, shivering with just his face peeking out. The heater was cranking full blast. The snow outside was deeper than before and the tires were losing grip. They had to stop soon. 

 

“I can't believe you did that,” he said, trying to distract Sylar from chattering his teeth miserably. 

 

Sylar's grumpy answer was muffled under the blanket. “I told you I was a hero.”

 

“Not that you  _ did  _ it,” he patted what he figured was Sylar's knee sticking the blanket up at a point. “That you  _ could.  _ Your powers amaze me.”

 

Sylar hummed, not looking over. Mohinder frowned, not sure what to do about his sour mood. They passed a sign, barely visible through the falling snow, pointing to the offramp for hotels and restaurants. Mohinder turned sharp to make the ramp and Sylar swore as he was thrown sideways. He readjusted his blankets with a huff. 

 

“Sorry,” Mohinder muttered. He pulled into a small motel with a lit ‘Vacancy’ sign and turned to Sylar. “How are we doing this?”

 

Sylar motioned to the lobby. “Since you're wearing more than blood right now, you get to get us a room.” He handed his wallet over. “Go be charming. You've got this.”

 

Mohinder left the engine running and the heater on. It was so dry and hot in the car he had sweat pooling at the small of his back but Sylar was still shivering. 

 

The lobby was much more temperate, warm but not stifling. He was able to talk the desk clerk into taking cash but had to place a large amount down for incidentals. They would need to get more cash soon, even after getting the deposit back. 

 

He got back in the car and Sylar's gentle snoring greeted him. He moved the car in front of their room with a smile, walking around to rouse Sylar. “Come on, grumpy, let's get you in the shower.”

 

He led Sylar to the bathroom by his shoulders, turning the shower on just too hot before shoving the blanket to the ground. He saw some blood smeared on it but was more concerned with the blood on Sylar. “Look at you. Are you alright?” he asked as he unbuttoned Sylar's pants. 

 

Sylar's eyes were glued to his arms, bloodied to the elbow. He nodded without looking away. Mohinder finished helping him undress and wet a washcloth to clean his face. “Hey. What's wrong?” His fingers were tight around Sylar's jaw to keep his eyes up. 

 

He just shook his head and turned to the shower. Mohinder caught his cheek and pulled him close, kissing him softly on slack lips. Sylar shut his eyes and nuzzled close. He pulled back with a sigh and into the shower. His arms were upturned to the water, running clear as Mohinder watched. It was as if whatever was weighing Sylar down had washed away too - his body lost the tension it was strung with and he breathed deeper. 

 

Sylar hadn't asked for company and the longer Mohinder stood there, the more awkward he felt. “So. I'll be right outside, okay?” Sylar looked toward him and grinned. Mohinder touched his hip softly before pulling the curtain into place and stepping out. 

 

He grabbed their bags from the car, digging through the shopping bag Sylar had picked up at the farmer's market. He had bought random things: apples and carrots they had snacked on during the trip, a jar of honey, a hand stamped journal. He grabbed a remaining apple and walked around the motel for vending machines. He fed the last couple dollars from his wallet in the machine on a water and some candy. 

 

Sylar was still in the shower when Mohinder returned. He knocked on the door and didn't get an answer so be walked in.

 

“Sylar?”

 

He was standing with his head back under the water, one hand against the wall. His shoulders were pink from the hot water but he was still too pale everywhere else. He blinked, hair falling in his eyes. 

 

“Hey. I got you some licorice.” Sylar looked confused. “Your blood sugar is probably low, why you're being an ass. Eat this now and we'll get dinner when you're out.” He opened the package and Sylar frowned. 

 

“No black?”

 

Mohinder rolled his eyes. “How'd I know you'd be difficult.” He took the package of black licorice out of his pocket and handed Sylar a few pieces. His smile was bright as he leaned in to kiss him thanks. Mohinder pushed him back under the water and shook his head as Sylar tore into the candy ropes. 

 

Back in the bedroom, Mohinder tried to kill time but Sylar was taking forever; he was in the shower almost another hour. Mohinder contemplated checking on him a couple times, but just sat in bed with his attention half on a novel and rejected licorice. 

 

Sylar came out without making eye contact, beelining for his bag. Mohinder tried not to stare as he dressed. Sylar still wouldn't meet his eyes as he sat by his crossed feet at the edge of the bed. 

 

Mohinder ran his socked toes over his hip. Sylar held them and squeezed. Sylar's eyes were back down at his arm, underside pale and hairless against his black clothing. 

 

“That wasn't the first time I've opened those veins,” he said quietly. Mohinder closed his book and set it aside. “When I was stuck in my mind, I couldn't take it anymore. The guilt. The loneliness. So … I cut,” he traced a finger from his wrist to his elbow. His voice faltered and Mohinder scooted closer to touch his arm. “The last thing I saw was my blood. And when I woke up, the first thing I saw was my blood.”

 

He shut his eyes and Mohinder held his outstretched arm. He wrapped his palm over as much tender skin as he could. “Every time I tried. Every time I failed. I failed before, too. After I stole my first power.” His hand went to his neck, to an almost invisible scar under his ear. Mohinder had seen it but never thought about it. “It was hard to see that much of my blood again. I'm sorry,” he apologized, sounding empty. 

 

“Don't.” Mohinder stroked his arm, up and down and held his hand tight in his own. He kissed the scar under Sylar's ear, sick with the knowledge that it was a rope that put it there. “I'm sorry you felt that was your option.” Sylar squeezed his hand. “I hope you feel different now.”

 

Sylar nodded. “I do. I do, it was just … bad memories today.” Mohinder nodded and kissed over his jaw. “I'm okay now.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“No. But I'd like to move on.”

 

Mohinder slid off the bed and to his knees in front of Sylar. He wrapped his hands around his thighs and looked up into his surprised eyes. “You can talk to me. I'd like that.” Sylar looked away but Mohinder dragged his face back. “Seriously. Any time.” The honestly in his words surprised him, and judging by Sylar's look, surprised him as well. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, leaning down against Mohinder’s lips. They kissed gently and Sylar pushed Mohinder back when be started to crawl up into his lap. He smiled, teasingly. “Later.”

 

“Mmhmm.” He ignored him and went on for another kiss. 

 

Sylar dodged, “Food first. I'm still feeling woozy.” Mohinder pulled him off the bed with a sigh.  He tossed him the apple and a bottle of water as he slipped his shoes on. 

 

Mohinder squinted stepping outside, the hazy late afternoon sun reflecting off the snow. Sylar took his car keys and said he'd catch up as Mohinder walked. 

 

He did, bumping Mohinder’s shoulder as he shook snow from his unstyled hair. He had his eyes down behind his glasses. Catching the look Mohinder was giving him, he explained, “It's too bright and white, I can't tell perspective well right now, don't want to trip or slip on ice.”

 

A strand of hair fell in his face and Mohinder smiled as he brushed it back behind his ear. “You’re cute,” he said softly. 

 

“I look like a dork.”

 

“I didn't say the two were mutually exclusive.” Sylar smiled at him, cheeks and nose flushed.

 

They walked in silence, hands deep in pockets and arms brushing. Mohinder had seen a sign pointing down the main road for restaurants so they walked parallel to the almost empty road, through the trees and snow. 

 

Sylar was still smiling as he moved to kiss Mohinder, pushing him back against an evergreen. He kissed him slow and hard, bodies pressed tight together. Mohinder’s ribs protested. 

 

“Mmm. So, you’re feeling better now?” Mohinder asked, carefully pushing Sylar off his chest. Sylar's answer was a noise not unlike a growl muffled against his neck. Mohinder’s cock swelled at it. 

 

He slid his hands down Sylar's back and cupped under his ass. Sylar groaned as Mohinder lifted him and spun him against the tree. 

 

“Ooh,” he moaned into Mohinder’s mouth. “I should be used to you manhandling me by now,” he said with a crooked smile. Mohinder squeezed his ass and took control of their kiss, turning it hard and desperate with his probing tongue. 

 

Sylar wrapped his hands around his waist and pulled him closer. “Baby.”

 

“I want you,” Mohinder mumbled against his lips. 

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Right now, I want you right now,” he said, hand curling in his wool coat. 

 

Sylar touched his face, hands sliding down his chest. Mohinder grabbed them and slammed them over his head against the tree. Snow shook lose from the branches and pelted around them. Snowflakes landed in his soft hair. 

 

“Fuck, baby,” Sylar moaned, grinding his hips up against him. “Let's go back to the room.”

 

Mohinder shuffled his grip on Sylar's wrists so he held them in one hand, his other hand going to Sylar's fly. 

 

“Honey. Honey, I hope you're not going to be disappointed there,” Sylar groaned as Mohinder kissed up the side of his face. 

 

“I'm never disappointed.”

 

“It's very cold,” Sylar whispered as Mohinder shoved his jeans and boxers down. “Oh my god, freezing.”

 

Mohinder stepped back to consider Sylar’s soft cock, tucked close to his thigh. Sylar shivered as Mohinder cupped his cock and squeezed gently, feeling his staggering breath through his hair.

 

“Oh god, baby,” Sylar pushed up into his hand. Mohinder released his wrists and curled his other hand under Sylar's balls, pulled so tight against his body. “Your hands are freezing.”

 

He gently squeezed Sylar's dick between his fingers, kissing his moaning mouth as it fell open. He tugged Sylar's balls experimentally. 

 

“Mohinder. Ooh, god, do that again.” He did and he felt Sylar collapse heavily against him.

 

With a smile, Mohinder squeezed his dick in a tight O of his fingers, pulsing pressure down Sylar's length. Squeeze and stroke, squeeze and stroke, he flicked his thumb over the tip and rubbed a gentle circle right below the mushrooming head. 

 

Sylar pressed his mouth to Mohinder’s shoulder, crying out in pleasure and clutching his sleeves.

 

Mohinder knew his hands were warming up from the friction but Sylar stayed small and soft and sensitive. 

 

Sylar grabbed the hand around his dick and brought it to his mouth. He licked a long wet stripe over his palm and fingers. Mohinder watched as he did it again before wrapping his mouth around his thumb and swirling his tongue around it. He looked down at Mohinder through heavy eyes. 

 

Mohinder swayed with lust. He palmed Sylar's cock with his free hand. 

 

Sylar wet his whole hand and pulled back to kiss his palm. He blew out gently and Mohinder felt the air around his hand drop temperature. The moisture froze and he gasped as he could see the spit twinkle with little icicles. Sylar held his wrist and moved his icy hand back down. 

 

Mohinder stopped breathing and watched Sylar's face as he grazed his icy thumb across his slit. 

 

Sylar gasped and his cock jumped in his hand. Mohinder wrapped his cold fingers around Sylar in a gentle hold and continued to thumb his head. He spread thick precome around it and used his warmer hand to stroke the underside of Sylar's finally half hard cock. He stroked the other side with the cold hand, hearing Sylar hiss as the frozen ring on his thumb dragged over his flesh. 

 

“Baby, baby, oh god,” Sylar mumbled against his neck as he came. Mohinder felt every jump and pulse of his dick and watched Sylar's come hit the snow between their feet. He bit his lip and looked up at Sylar's eyes, hazy behind thick frames. “What are you doing to me?” Sylar asked against his lips as he pressed kisses to Mohinder’s panting mouth. 


	48. Chapter 48

Mohinder woke up under Sylar's weight again, skin chilled where he, once again, had no blanket. He grumbled into the pillow.

 

Sylar's fingers curled against his skin, a gentle drag of nails letting him know he wasn't the only one awake. He leaned up into the touch. 

 

“Good morning,” Sylar said, mouthing down his neck. He rubbed little circles down Mohinder’s vertebrae. 

 

The room was pitch black. “‘s it mornin’?” Mohinder mumbled. It felt like they had just laid down. Dinner had made him tired and he passed out as soon as they got back to the room the night before, body sore and mind worn. 

 

“Three forty seven,” Sylar confirmed. 

 

Mohinder turned further into the pillow. “Why?” He tried not to whine but wasn't successful. 

 

Sylar's low laugh rumbled through his ribcage. He felt less bruised; it hardly hurt to breathe. “That's just how time works, darling. It just keeps on ticking.”

 

“Too early,” Mohinder said as he turned to look at Sylar's smiling face on the pillow beside him. The man was way too cheerful for predawn hours. He sighed and Sylar gently brushed his hair behind his ear. 

 

His hand stayed playing in his curls, stretching them and watching them bounce, fingertips brushing over his scalp. “Your hair had gotten so long. It's gorgeous.” 

 

Mohinder made a noncommittal noise. “Used to be longer. In school.”

 

Sylar smiled crookedly. “Did you grow it to piss off your mom?”

 

Mohinder stretched and answered without thinking. “My father, actually. He said that a man who wanted respect should look respectful.” He frowned, stomach flipping. He didn't want to talk about his father, especially to Sylar. 

 

Sylar made a noncommittal noise, letting silence fall between them as he played with Mohinder’s hair. He rested his arm across Mohinder’s back, pressing him gently into the bed. Mohinder allowed himself to get lost in the touch, to stop thinking and focus on physical sensation. 

 

“Kiss me,” he ordered. Sylar blinked, eyes dark, and did. His breath was warm and stale but  _ there,  _ his lips moving soft and slow and hand winding in his hair, holding him down and to the present. 

 

What had been didn't matter at that moment. Only the feeling of their bodies pressed together did. 

 

Mohinder turned his body, head stuck in place by Sylar's anchoring hand, rolling into his surrounding arms, arching into his body. He ran his hand up Sylar's cheek, feeling stubble snag his skin. “Please,” he mumbled, shivering at the rough texture on his skin. 

 

Sylar's words caught before his voice rumbled against his ear, “What do you want, Mohinder?”

 

Kissing his temple and down over his ear, Mohinder answered, “I want your body on mine. I want to feel you.”

 

Sylar groaned, releasing his hair so he could wind their fingers together. He pushed Mohinder over onto his back with his shoulder and draped his leg over his hip, leaning over him. Mohinder moaned, following the pale lines of the naked body he could just barely see in the dark. His noise spurred Sylar to brush against him, chests rubbing together before be pulled back. Mohinder raised his knees, getting some skin to skin contact as he bumped Sylar's legs bracketing him. 

 

“Sylar, please,” he begged, squeezing his hands. Sylar smiled and dropped to meet him with a kiss. He swooped up, lips guiding Mohinder’s head back on the pillow. Mohinder thrust his hips up but hit only the air between Sylar's spread legs. “Come back.”

 

“I'm right here,” he whispered, lips brushing. Mohinder pushed his hands up from the pillow into the air, Sylar balancing on them as he kissed Mohinder deep. His lips slid over his chin and neck, latching over his pulse and sucking until Mohinder knew he was marked. 

 

Mohinder moaned and stopped fighting, allowing Sylar to pin him again. Sylar dropped his whole body down to rest over Mohinder’s as he bit along his shoulder. He was hard against Mohinder’s thigh, cock rolling between them as they moved. 

 

Mohinder wound their legs together, rubbing his heel up Sylar's calf as he sucked another bruise on his collar bone. Sylar let go of his hands to cradle his face. 

 

“Sylar,” he moaned. “I want more.”

 

Sylar pulled back with a lingering kiss. “More like…?”

 

Mohinder grabbed his ass and pulled him up until their hips were aligned. “Ooh yes,” Sylar moaned. He rolled his hips and Mohinder pressed up into him. “Mohinder, baby,” he whispered between kisses. Mohinder held his body tight and rocked steadily against him. He kissed him with slow, tired drags of lips and tongue, running his hands over warm naked skin hungrily. 

 

The noises Sylar made were a level of desperate Mohinder felt reflected in his own blood. Their kisses grew harder, bodies moving together toward inevitable orgasm. Mohinder reached between them and stroked Sylar's cock, tasting his moans on his tongue. Sylar stopped Mohinder's stroking with his power. "Slow down, baby.”

 

"No,” Mohinder fought to grab him again. "How many times did you come last time? Four? Let's shoot for more. I wanna see you come.” Sylar groaned, hips jerking automatically at the suggestion. “Come on. Come for me.”

 

Sylar bit out his name against his neck, releasing his hold on Mohinder's hand. Mohinder eagerly wrapped around his dick again, thrusting his own against him in time with his hand. He watched Sylar’s face as tried to hold back, all bitten lip and flushed cheeks. He pulled him down by his hair, kissing his mouth open. Sylar's hips stuttered against his; Mohinder stroked him harder, rolled his palm over the head of his cock, and muttered a litany of “yes, baby, yes" as Sylar came against his stomach with a low cry. 

 

He didn't let up, kept his hand tight, squeezing Sylar through the aftershocks and stroking again as soon as he opened his eyes. His arms gave out, collapsing on Mohinder with a sigh. He hissed in agonized pleasure, eyes wide on Mohinder's open mouth. He pressed them together desperately, body taut, breaths shallow. 

 

Mohinder whined against Sylar's lips as he watched his face through fluttering eyelashes. His hand was caught between their bodies but he flicked his fingers the best he could. Sylar bit down on Mohinder's lip; Mohinder’s gasp stopped him just before he drew blood. Sylar closed his eyes and held his face between his hands, spreading his knees further to press harder into Mohinder's body. 

 

He gasped and Mohinder felt him come again over his fingers. 

 

Panting, Sylar struggled to lift his ass, pulling Mohinder's hands flat to the sheets with his mind. His breath was hot against his cheek. 

Mohinder kissed everywhere on his face he could reach. “Sylar. Let me go.” He kissed under his ear and felt the hold on his wrists travel up his arms. It wound down his chest as Sylar pulled back on weak arms. 

 

Hands free, Mohinder grabbed Sylar’s ass and dragged him up his body.

 

“Whoa!” Sylar sat up as his knees slid over the sheets. Mohinder stopped pulling him only when his knees hit tight to his armpits, cock hard over his face. 

 

Mohinder watched his cock jump and moaned, wrapping his sticky hands around it and pulling him closer. He held Sylar's eyes as he flicked his tongue over the wet slit, circling the glans and sucking the tip. 

 

Sylar fell against the wall, head cradled in his arms. Mohinder stroked and sucked, moaning deep in his throat. Sylar rolled his hips unconsciously and Mohinder tugged him even closer. Their eyes were locked as Sylar dropped a hand to Mohinder's cheek, his touch so gentle Mohinder shivered under it. 

 

Mohinder teased his teeth up Sylar's length, watching his eyes close as he tried to pull away. He didn't let him but did let up with the teeth. He squeezed the tight globes of Sylar's ass, sliding his middle fingers inward and over his anus. He pressed one barely in, the other caressing the rim, feeling Sylar’s muscles twitch. 

 

He watched Sylar's lips form his name silently. His fingers curled in his hair, tugging insistently as his hips jerked. 

 

Mohinder swirled his tongue and saw Sylar fall apart before he felt the single pulse of his dick in his mouth, come spreading thin over his tongue. He curled his fingers, the one in Sylar dragging a long moan from his mouth as it popped out. 

 

Sylar's legs collapsed around Mohinder's head. His body was still but his fingers restless, tangling in his hair. Mohinder rolled his tongue along the bottom of Sylar's dick, letting it slip from his lips as he swallowed. Sylar moaned, looking down at his cock slipping over Mohinder's chin. 

 

Mohinder's hands trailed up his stomach; he watched as muscles leapt under his touch. Sylar scooted down his body and bent in half to kiss him. Mohinder, lips still tingling with the feeling of Sylar's flesh, let the kiss linger as his hands wandered. Sylar chased his own taste in Mohinder's mouth. Mohinder grabbed his hips and shoved him backward after a long minute. He fell back with a yelp. 

 

Mohinder crawled on top of him, smiling, cocky with their position reversal. Sylar moved slow, like his body couldn't cooperate, but he did succeed in pulling Mohinder down to kiss the look from his face. Mohinder pulled back, heavy eyes raking over Sylar's body as he sat back on his legs. He pushed Sylar's legs up and open. Sylar gasped, chest lurching toward the ceiling. Mohinder trailed kisses and nipping bites down his inner thighs as shivers ran the length of Sylar's body. 

 

Sylar's movement to sit was thwarted by a single strong shove. He fell back to the bed with a moan. Mohinder bit the fleshy inside of his thigh and snapped, “Stay there. Stay right there.”

 

He looked into Sylar's eyes, wide and dark and wanting. His hair was loose on the blankets, limbs heavy, joints tense. He looked so fucked and Mohinder felt a flash of something he didn't want to name deep in his stomach. He grabbed Sylar's numb legs and roughly pressed his knees to his shoulders, licking a long stripe of skin ass to balls, lust drowning everything else out as Sylar's needy moans filled his ears. “Stay,” he growled, stepping from the bed on shaking legs. 

 

He heard Sylar moan and stretch, bed creaking under his long limbs, but he didn't turn to look. He dug in his bag, turning it upside down in impatience, digging through shirts and rolled socks for the lube he had stolen from Sylar's duffel. 

 

Succeeding, he turned back to the bed, breath catching when he saw Sylar on his stomach, ass in the air with a totally on purpose back stretch. His sideways grin just stirred Mohinder's stomach and with three long steps to the bed, he had his fingers dug into Sylar's hips as he rolled him over again, pulling him to the edge of the bed. 

 

His ass hit solidly against Mohinder's thighs, legs curled to the side. He grabbed Mohinder's hand and his eyes; he lifted his leg in a liquid, lewd swing up and around Mohinder's body, wrapping his legs tight around his lower back and tugging him forward. He lost his balance, one hand catching himself on Sylar's belly. 

 

He curled his fingers over Sylar's half hard dick, sighing as he tried to pull back. “Stay.” He watched as Sylar shook with the need to break away.  _ <You're so fucking gorgeous.> _ Sylar rolled his head back with a whine. Mohinder continued with his hand and watched Sylar writhe. 

 

_ <I've wanted to do this for so long,> _ he muttered in Tamil as he yanked Sylar's hips up against his own. < _ I love seeing you like this, so weak for me, so wrecked.> _ Sylar wrapped his legs tighter and held on as Mohinder fumbled with the lube. He poured too much in his hand and pushed Sylar's hips back to the bed. His wet fingers toyed around his entrance; Sylar's hands fisted the blanket by his head and he threw his hips against the teasing touch.  _ <I love how you need me.> _

 

Sylar was mumbling pieces and syllables of his name as he fucked his fingers deep. His shaking legs fell open and Mohinder bent over him, taking a nipple between his teeth as he added a finger and thrust harder. He spread his fingers, opening Sylar wide. 

 

“Now. Now,” Sylar breathed, balancing on his elbows and nosing Mohinder's head up to kiss him. “M’hinder, please.” Mohinder curled his fingers and felt Sylar clench around him, cock twitching as he rubbed against his prostate. 

 

< _ I love how responsive you are,> _ Mohinder said between Sylar's lips. “Use a power. I want to fuck you while you're using a power.” He removed his hand and nudged his dick, desperate and leaking, in its place.  _ <I want to feel how powerful you are while you're under me.> _

 

Sylar glanced around the room and turned his hand over on the bedspread. Mohinder watched the bedside lamp rip free from its power cord and float over to hover by them. He bit his lip and pushed into Sylar, open and willing under him. < _ More,> _ he demanded, tongue losing track of his language. 

 

Whether he understood or not, Sylar's power turned the lamp to gold, ribbons of precious metal marbling its base thicker and thicker, spreading quicker over the paper lampshade. It floated over their heads. Mohinder's attention was caught between Sylar gasping under him and the appliance spinning midair. 

 

Sylar sat up, ass scooted over the edge of the bed into Mohinder's hands, bending in half to kiss him. He held Mohinder's shoulders tight for balance. His body was so tight at the new angle, gripping Mohinder's cock almost painfully. He was wet enough Mohinder could rock against him in tiny jerks of friction and pleasure. 

 

Sylar leaned back, as if against a wall, and Mohinder raised his hand to the air over his shoulder, hitting an invisible blockade indeed quite like a wall. He braced himself against the air and fucked Sylar as hard as he could, eyes traveling over the pale body curled around him. Grabbing under Sylar's leg, he pushed his knee up to his chest and his body opened for him. He slid all the way in and shivered, overwhelmed. Sylar curled his other leg around his calf, holding him tight. 

 

As he watched, he saw liquid gold spill over Sylar's shoulders and down his chest. He blinked and looked up, seeing the transmuted lamp melting over them in a show of the first power he had seen Sylar display. Flashes of hot wanting and hidden lust poured through his mind - shy Zane looking delicious and fuckable in the car next to him. Desire reflected back at him in Sylar's eyes as they fought to overpower the other. The soft look between the two Mohinder had secretly started to think of as purely Gabriel, eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen mouth panting with need. 

 

His stomach flipped as the very look was written on Sylar's face below him. 

 

He jerked his hips hard, hearing Sylar gasp with the thrust. He watched the metal melt and drip across Sylar's skin, a drop hitting his temple and rolling down the side of his face. Sylar blinked slow and Mohinder trailed his lips up alongside the metal's path. < _ You are the most amazing person on the planet.> _

 

Sylar's mouth was open, trying to gasp in air between Mohinder's thrusts, but he couldn't. Gold continued to melt against his skin. A trail rolled to where Mohinder's body met his and he was surprised to feel it was cooler than their bodies, room temperature, if that. He caught a palm full of falling liquid metal and, eyes locked with Sylar's, pressed it to his chest.

 

He pushed harder, flattening Sylar against his invisible wall, other hand tight against his hips as he thrust deep once, twice, catching against Sylar's prostate a third time, and he watched Sylar's face as he fell into another orgasm. The golden lightbulb over their heads burst as his face cracked blissfully, shards ripping through the goldleaf shade and scattering around them. 

 

Mohinder came deep in Sylar, leaning against him and rocking through aftershocks until the simulation hurt. Sylar's open mouth was wet on his shoulder. The remains of the lamp were thrown to the floor with a loud thump. 

 

An answering thump came from the neighboring wall. Mohinder tried to laugh at the stranger they had disturbed but couldn't muster the energy. The wall Sylar had erected behind him fell away, both men falling to the bed in a heap of limp limbs. 

 

Sylar's leg was still wedged between them, hips tilted up against Mohinder's softening cock. It looked painful but he wasn't complaining and Mohinder didn't think he could find the energy to move. He lay mostly against Sylar's chest, feeling him gasp to catch his breath as he let his fingers trace the edge of the gilded handprint right over his heart. 

 

He blinked heavy eyes and pulled Mohinder down by the hair. They kissed, long wet kisses between heaving breaths. Sylar slowly pulled the metal from his skin, liquid pooling over his shoulders. Mohinder felt the remaining traces pull from his hand. Sylar flinched as the liquid gold floated from his chest, skin turning red where he was carefully extracting it from his dark hair. “Ow. Ow, didn't think of that.” Mohinder couldn't look away. 

 

Soon the only thing left was the handprint marking him. As it lifted, Mohinder replaced his hand on Sylar's chest, his delicate skin pink around his fingers. “That was amazing.” Sylar hummed in agreeance, sounding sated and worn. His fingers played down Mohinder's neck and shoulders, working into a massage. Mohinder leaned into his hands as he gently rubbed the hickies peppered over his skin. “How many powers did you use?”

 

With a shrug, Sylar answered, “Lost count. You make me lose control.” His voice was rough. “I couldn't hold them back once I started.” He paused before continuing with his hand catching in Mohinder's curls. “I … I could feel what you want. I didn't look, I don't  _ know _ , but I can feel it, under my skin.” He rolled his shoulder forward, motioning to the tattoo on his shoulder. “I can show you, if you want.”

 

“I don't want,” Mohinder said as he pushed him flat against the bed. “No.” 

 

“Okay,” Sylar breathed, running his lips up Mohinder's neck. “Okay, baby.”

 

Mohinder felt heavy. “We should go,” he said quietly. Sylar nodded and made no move to get up, holding Mohinder close to his chest. They lingered laying together like that. 


	49. Chapter 49

The further south the drove, the more tense it became in the car. Sylar grew quiet and stared out the window. Mohinder couldn't shake the feeling that once they reached San Francisco, everything would change. It surprised him how used to traveling with,  _ being with _ Sylar he had become - no, it didn't. He remembered how fond of Zane he had become in such a short time, how focused on Sylar's moves and motives and actions he had become after his disguise was lifted. And the last weeks, seeing the Gabriel behind the Sylar? Mohinder honestly wasn't surprised at all with how taken he was by the man. 

 

The seed had been planted there a long time before.

 

When the nightmare was over, the killer caught and stopped, he knew he would be free again. In theory. He knew he should want to be. Logically. He didn't know how he was going to just walk away. 

And so he drove in morose silence through Washington and Oregon. They traded drivers in California and Sylar took highway one down along the coast. The winding roads and switchbacks were taking more time then the route Mohinder had been driving and he knew he wasn't alone thinking about their inevitable parting. 

 

The ocean sparkled gold in the late afternoon sun, great gray foamy waves crashing against the coastline. A different turmoil for Mohinder to focus on. 

 

“So what are we going to do?” Sylar interrupted his thoughts. 

 

“What?” he snapped his eyes over. 

 

“When we catch this guy? We need a plan.”

 

“I … let me check it out,” he said, taking his phone from his pocket. He had an idea Molly or her group knew a secure place you lock up dangerous evos. 

 

_ Hey honey, sorry to bother you _

_ We have a potential problem _

_ Do you know a safe place to bring powered criminals?  _

 

He watched the ocean waiting for her reply. He jumped when his phone buzzed. 

 

_ Call Matt  _

 

“Huh.” He looked down at the simple message, lost.

 

“What’s the verdict?” Sylar asked. 

 

“Molly says to call Matthew.”

 

Sylar grunted. “He's trouble, but if he can help …”

 

Mohinder signed. “I know you have a personal vendetta against him, but the man I knew wasn't a bad guy.”

 

“Funny how people change,” Sylar said, voice holding hints of sarcasm and sadness as he looked over at Mohinder. He shook his head and turned back to the road. “Now's a good time to call. Unless you - I can pull over if you want privacy.”

 

“No. No, now is good.” Mohinder placed his hand on Sylar's leg and scrolled through the contacts on his phone. He called, still lost on what Matt could help him with. He thought he had left the police force when he moved out to California. 

 

“Mohinder?” Matt answered the phone, sounding delighted and confused. 

 

“Hello, Matthew. Did Molly give you my new number?” They hadn't spoken since Mohinder had removed himself from evolved society. 

 

“Yeah, of course. You shouldn't go off the grid like that, what if there had been an emergency?”

 

Mohinder signed. “Yes. Yes, I know, I apologise. How are you, how is California?”

 

“Great! Everything is great. Janice and little Matty, you know. I got a great new gig, been working working working!”

 

“Oh that's … great.” For lack of better word. “What do you do now?” he asked as he shuffled back in the seat to prepare for a friendly conversation. Sylar sat quietly next to him, driving a hair too fast on the winding curves. 

 

Matt was smiling, he could hear it in his voice. “Oh, I'm kind of… a director, I guess. I run an institution for dangerous and criminal evos. It's great.”

 

Sylar's eyebrows perked as their eyes met. Mohinder couldn't help but smile. Molly was right. “Wow that's - actually, that's pretty perfect.”

 

“Thanks, it really is!” Mohinder heard a solid thump from Matt's end of the line. He pictured him throwing his feet up on a desk. Same old Matthew. He smiled, glad to finally be talking with his friend. He was glad he hadn't taken Sylar's bias to heart. 

 

“Yes, that's wonderful for you,” Mohinder said, “But it's actually why I called you. Um,” he glanced over at Sylar before continuing. “Have you heard of the murders happening across the country? Bloody, public, all evolved humans? And, uh, brains removed?”

 

“Um, of course. It's in the news all the time,” Matt bit out. “What I wouldn't give to get my hands on that bastard.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, actually … I'm following him right now.”

 

“What?! You know where he is?” Matt interrupted. 

 

“I know where he's going. He's been … generous enough to tell me.”

 

“Fuck!” he sounded furious. Another bang rang through the phone but Mohinder pictured it as a fist slamming the desk. “I can't believe I let him slip from my hands.”

 

“What? You know  _ who _ it is?” Mohinder leaned forward in anticipation.

 

Another loud bang. “Of course, it's Sylar! He's practically signing these crime scenes! Newspapers have reported it, everyone knows who killed those people.”

 

Sylar's enthusiasm deflated as he heard Matt yelling through the phone. Mohinder sighed. “No, it's not.”

 

“It can't be anyone else, he's back and he's killing and damnit, if you know where he is -”

 

Mohinder cut him off, speaking over him until he fell quiet. “It is  _ not _ Sylar, Matthew, someone is framing him. We don't know why, yet, but he's not the culprit.”

 

“Um, excuse me, why would you even think that, that's stupid. What proof do you have? Wait, ‘we’? Mohinder, who are you working for? What's going on?”

 

As he was yelling, Sylar caught Mohinder’s attention and said quietly, “Put the phone on speaker.” 

 

Mohinder did and the car was filled with Matt's angry questioning. “Damnit, Mohinder, who are you working with?”

 

When he took a breath, Sylar cut in, “Hey, asshole. Been a while.”

 

The silence from Matt's end of the line was heavy. Mohinder thought he heard his throat clicking as he lost his words. “Who - Sylar?”

 

“Got it in one. Congratulations, that's the first thing you've gotten correct today.”

 

“What the fuck are you doing? Mohinder, get away from him!”

 

“Matthew!” Mohinder had to yell to get him to stop. “Would you just shut up and listen?”

 

“Not to him!”

 

“Then listen to me! He is being framed. I thought he was lying too, at first.” He blinked and apologised quietly to Sylar, who shrugged, eyes on the road and shoulders tense. Back to the phone, he continued before Matt could start up again. “I've been on the road with him for two weeks, we have been across the country - chasing murders,” shit, he had almost said the murderer was following on their predetermined trail, and that would not help gain Matt's trust, “and  _ trust me, _ Sylar isn't committing them. Alright?”

 

“Following a trail of murders? Really? Or is this like the two of you chasing specials down and him  _ killing them _ before you notice? Mohinder, how could you be so stupid?  _ Twice _ ?”

 

“Goddamnit, asshole -” Sylar started, furious. Mohinder punched him hard on the arm and he shut up, mouth open in pain. 

 

“Stop! Stop, both of you,” he glared at Sylar. “Matthew, just  _ trust me, _ alright? There is no way he's killing people. I've been next to him the moment someone is killed and he didn't do anything.”

 

“You don't know what powers he's collected, you don't know what he's capable of!” Matt was extremely pissed. 

 

Sylar said slowly in a volume just lower than yelling, “I don't take powers anymore. I don't fucking  _ kill _ people.”

 

Matt laughed, empty and humorless. “Bullshit.”

 

Sylar started to yell and Mohinder yelled louder. “Damnit, we need help! There's a murderer on the loose, we are  _ going _ to stop him, but we need somewhere to take him so we're sure he won't kill again! Matthew, help us. Please. Help me.”

 

Matt snorted. “I'm not helping him. If someone catches him, thinks he's the murderer, good riddance.”

 

Mohinder grit his teeth and raised the phone to his mouth. “I know Sylar is not the killer because I've been caught by the man.” Matt was silent finally so he continued. “He's been leading the two of us across the country but be backtracked and cornered me. I was alone with him, it was not Sylar. Matthew, damnit, believe me. He could have killed me in a damn closet in Arizona but he continued to play this damn game, lead us to his kills. We're going to stop him but I need your help.”

 

The line was silent. Sylar placed his hand on Mohinder’s thigh. Matt stayed quiet so Mohinder continued to plead his case. “He knows who we are. He cornered me, I couldn't see him but he knows who I am and where to find me. He's been following Sylar even longer. He's followed us on the road, in cities, he's killed people right outside the room we've been in. How long until he follows other people I care about? That Sylar cares about?”

 

“He doesn't -”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Mohinder growled, cutting Matt short. “When does he go after you? Your wife and kid?  _ Molly _ ? I'm trying my best to keep her safe, but if this guy is free, how long until I find our daughter's body brainless and cold?” he choked. Sylar moved his hand from his thigh to wrap around his own, holding tight. Mohinder breathed. “If you can help …”

 

The line was silent for a full minute. Mohinder watched the digital clock on the dash change. “I don't trust him. I don't know if I can trust you.”

 

“Why wouldn't you?” Sylar asked. “Trust Mohinder?” he clarified. 

 

“Because I don't know what you've done to him.” Matt wasn't yelling anymore but anger was still thick in his voice. “Mohinder, you left. You left everyone. To what? Hide?”

 

Mohinder nodded, then whispered so.

 

“What were you hiding from?  _ Who _ were you hiding from?” Mohinder’s silence confirmed Matt's suspicion. “So how the fuck did he find you? Why would you go with him?”

 

Sylar answered quietly, “Molly helped me.”

 

At the same time, Mohinder answered, “Because he asked.”

 

“Molly?!” And Matt was back to livid. “You let him near Molly? What the fuck!”

 

“I didn't let anyone do anything,” Mohinder said, getting irritated. 

 

“Molly contacted me,” Sylar said. Mohinder’s head snapped over to him. Sylar nodded and continued, “Well, her friend did. The tech kid? I got a call and another kid, a little older, came to meet me in Virginia. He was able to read me, not quite my mind, but I guess my intentions? My actions? He knew I wasn't the one killing these people. Molly had been tracking me and the kids noticed I wasn't at the crime scenes until after they were reported. One tripped them up because I was on the same boat when it happened, but like I said, this guy has been following me since I was onto him in Florida. The kids realized I wasn't the one. Mohinder knows, too. Now this creep is playing with us and I'm going to stop him, but I don't kill people. Not anymore. So I need your help. I need to know he won't be free to kill again, to hurt Mohinder again.”

 

Matt swallowed hard enough they could hear it over the line. “Mohinder, you're hurt?”

 

“I … no. No, I'm fine, he really just scared me is all.”

 

“Bullshit.” He signed, drawn out long and loud. “It goes against everything I think is right. If you catch this guy -”

 

Sylar corrected, “When.”

 

“- I'll need proof. I can't just commit someone on hearsay. Especially  _ Sylar's _ . Got it?”

 

The weight on Mohinder’s chest lifted as he sighed. “Yes. Yes, we will have proof. Thank you, Matthew.”

 

“I'm not doing this for you.” He sounded deflated. “I'm doing this for Molly.”

 

“Again, then. Thank you,” he emphasised. 

 

Matt made a frustrated noise. “Where are you?”

 

Sylar answered, “We just got into California. We're headed south to San Francisco.”

 

“So you'll be there tonight? I'm in L.A., I'll send someone to pick the guy up. When do you think you'll nab him?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Sylar growled. “Or tonight. I just want to end this.”

 

“So what's this guy's power? So I'm prepared,” Matt wondered. 

 

“I dont know,” Mohinder answered. “He froze me in place but we've seen multiple people do his bidding.”

 

“There's no tool marks on the victims,” Matt said. “Have you actually seen them? Is that true?”

 

“Yes,” Sylar said. “I've seen most of them, there are no marks.”

 

“Gee,” Matt's voice was thick with sarcasm, “Seems I've heard that before.”

 

“Shut  _ up _ , Matthew, I swear.”

 

“Or what? You're going to sic your attack dog on me? Who has the leash on who in your sick dynamic duo?”

 

Mohinder blustered but Sylar said coolly, “Whom.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _ Who _ has the leash on  _ whom.” _

 

Mohinder couldn't help but snicker and roll his eyes.

 

“Well, excu-use me.” He was getting petulant. Same old Matthew. “When did you two get so buddy-buddy?”

 

Sylar hummed and stroked the back of Mohinder’s hand with his thumb. “Mohinder is not, and never will be, my ‘buddy’,” he said softly, raising Mohinder’s hand to his lips to press a silent wet kiss to his skin. Mohinder’s stomach dropped. 

 

“Yeah, whatever. You just get this shit done. I'll be calling tomorrow. Mohinder - watch it. You have to sleep and you don't know what Sylar's doing while you do. Do not let him go if it is him.”

 

“Matthew - get over it. You're wrong. I'll see you soon.”

 

“No you won't, I'm not going anywhere near -” Mohinder hung up on him, letting silence fill the air between Sylar and himself. 

 

“Well, that solved one problem,” Sylar said cheerfully. He still had Mohinder’s hand, caressing it gently. His eyes darted to the road and back to meet Mohinder’s with a smile. 

 

Mohinder turned to look out his window, chin resting on his hand. The ocean was still crashing next to them. 

 

“Mohinder?” Sylar's voice was edging toward timid. “Thank you for sticking up for me.” Mohinder turned to him. Sylar looked timid. “No one’s ever done that for me before.”

 

Mohinder stared at him until he rustled in the seat. He looked down at their joined hands. “Sometimes you say things that break my heart for you.”

 

“Don't,” Sylar shook his head, turning back to the road almost fast enough to hide his blush. “I'm not - it's just - life.” He shrugged. 

 

“Life doesn't have to be so much pain.” He squeezed Sylar's hand. 

 

“Funny thing.” Sylar's voice held a tight lilt as he looked out the window at the road. “Lately, it hasn't been.”


	50. Chapter 50

It started raining as evening set. They drove through trees so thick Mohinder felt like they were in a forest. Road signs counted down their time together in miles left to San Francisco. 

 

He was restless, his stomach was in knots and his mind no better. They passed through the trees and into a city. Mohinder couldn't take it anymore. 

 

“Let's not go,” he said. 

 

Sylar turned to him, blinking in confusion. “We have to.”

 

“No, no, not  _ not ever,  _ just not  _ tonight.”  _ Sylar was watching him with a stone face. “Please. Let's just have one more - one night of peace.”

 

Sylar turned back to the road as traffic slowed in front of them. Someone in the lane ahead didn't know how to drive in the rain. “Okay,” he whispered. He bit his lip and said louder, “I'll take you to one of my favorite places.”

 

Mohinder smiled. “Okay.”

 

“Okay? Great,” Sylar relaxed back into the seat. “I wish we could go to Sausalito but it's too close to the city, I don't want to look like we're playing this guy.”

 

“That's okay. Wherever. This is my first time in California.”

 

Sylar hummed. “Well, I don't want you to think it's dumb. I'll think of somewhere else.” He slid his glasses on to see better in the low light. 

 

“No,” he said, touching Sylar's thigh. “No, I'd like to see your favorite place.”

 

Sylar laughed. “Okay, you asked.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“You took me to a rest stop.”

 

Sylar leaned on the rail next to him, looking over the edge to the city peeking out from the trees below. 

 

“I took you to  _ this _ rest stop. There's something …” he sighed and swept his arm over the rail. “The city, the greenery, the hills. It's so different from home. I absolutely love it here.”

 

Mohinder smiled at the technicolor rails of roller coasters soaring above the distant tree line. It was such a random place, the last place he would expect to put such a smile on Sylar's face. He couldn't look away as Sylar raised his head to the night sky, rain cascading over his bare features. 

 

They were both soaked to the bone after walking around the rest stop for so long. There wasn't anything to do except admire the view. 

 

And Sylar's wet skin was such a view. 

 

Mohinder wrapped his hand around his stubbled chin, turning him to meet his lips. Their kiss tasted like rain.

 

Sylar moaned against him, clinging to his shirt. Wind blew around them. Mohinder pressed harder against Sylar's body, seeking warmth. He wound his hands in Sylar's hair, raising onto his toes and nipping his lip. 

 

Sylar continued to make hungry little noises, spurring Mohinder to drop his hands. One scratched the tender skin at the back of Sylar's neck, one slid down his back and under his ass, pulling him close. 

 

Mohinder was reminded of Ohio, rain and laughter and a heavy cock behind denim. His hand was back in Sylar's hair, tugging his head to the side for a deeper angle. Sylar's hands rested over Mohinder’s ribs, fingers curling as he whined. 

 

Mohinder slowly walked him backwards to their car, parked far from every other one in the lot. Sylar shuffled through puddles, hands catching on wet fabric as he stroked down Mohinder’s sides. 

 

He had to get closer. Mohinder slipped a hand up Sylar's shirt, cold fingers on warm skin shocking a gasp out of him. Mohinder slid his tongue against Sylar's and pushed him the last steps to the car. He had to get closer. 

 

The rain started coming down harder and Sylar shivered standing by the car. Mohinder pressed him against the door with his body and stood on his toes, dragging himself across Sylar’s torso until they were eye and eye before he leaned in for another kiss. 

 

He braced his hands against the car by Sylar's hips. Sylar moaned and wrapped his hands around Mohinder’s waist. 

 

Mohinder bit Sylar's lip hard, shocking a yelp from him. As he sucked the healing wound, Sylar's hands skated over his back and into his wet hair. 

 

Mohinder rocked his hips forward as Sylar pulled and he tilted his head back and whined. He closed his eyes against the rain and held tight to Sylar's shirt as he latched onto his neck with sharp sucking kisses. 

 

Sylar's hands moved down his neck and he felt stinging bruises in their path. He shivered and shook the water from his hair as he looked back at Sylar. 

 

Sylar's eyes were dark as his fingers stroked down his neck and over his collarbone. He ran fingers down the open neck of Mohinder’s shirt and tugged, ripping buttons off in desperation. 

 

“Oh,” Mohinder moaned. He had one fist balled in Sylar's shirt and a shaking hand threading through his hair as Sylar bent to kiss and bite at Mohinder’s chest. 

 

“Sylar, oh,” his voice shook as Sylar's hands rounded his ass and tugged him forward. 

 

He was so hard against him. 

 

Mohinder shook with lust and shoved Sylar back, seeing him sprawled against the door of the car before he fell to his knees. 

 

Sylar's rapid breathing was almost louder than the rain falling against them. 

 

Mohinder fought Sylar's button and fly, mouthing the wet fabric over his cock. Sylar's hand cupped his face, turning him slightly. Mohinder rolled his eyes to look up at him as he licked and kissed the thick denim. 

 

He felt Sylar's cock jump as he opened his fly. He leaned back and tugged his jeans down, groaning when Sylar's dick sprung up in his boxers. 

 

“Oh god, baby,” Sylar crooned as Mohinder’s mouth wrapped around the thin fabric covering the end of his dick. 

 

His boxers were already wet with precome and Mohinder palmed himself, so turned on. He pulled Sylar's boxers down and wrapped his lips around bare cock, sucking hard and taking as much of him as he could in his mouth. 

 

Sylar's knees buckled and Mohinder caught him with strong hands under his ass. Sylar's head rolled back. “Baby, baby, please!” he keened. 

 

Mohinder rolled his hand around the base of Sylar's dick and sucked the end, bobbing and wrapping his tongue along the underside. 

 

He felt Sylar’s cock twitch in his mouth and heard his breath hitch. He pulled back with a wet pop and tightened his grip at the base of Sylar's body. 

 

Sylar whined and thrust his hips but Mohinder didn't move. He looked down with heavy eyes, panting with need, and Mohinder felt his cock jump again. His grip kept him from coming and Sylar started begging him desperately. 

 

Mohinder cut him off, voice rough, “Put the seat down.”

 

Sylar tilted his head, not getting the idea. Mohinder took the car keys from his pocket and repeated his request. 

 

Sylar whined as he turned, Mohinder’s hand dragging hard down his cock as he moved. He opened the door and knelt on the backseat, reaching for the far latch of the seat release. 

 

Mohinder saw his hard cock swing as he moved and he whined, attracting Sylar's attention. With eyes on him, Mohinder stood and opened the fly of his pants. He pushed them and his boxers down, feeling his cock slap up against his wet skin. 

 

“Oh my god,” Sylar moaned. “Oh my god.” He fumbled blindly with the second latch as he watched Mohinder cant his hips forward and take himself in hand. 

 

“Come on, Sylar.” He bit his lip.

 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck.”Sylar turned away reluctantly but undid the last latch and laid the seat back down. He threw their bags in the passenger seat.

 

Mohinder pushed him ass first into the car and knelt again to unlace Sylar's boots as his feet dangled out the door. He threw them in the front seat and pushed his own muddy pants down. Bare knees in the car, he shoved his pants, boxers and shoes off, throwing them up front with Sylar's. He pushed Sylar further on the seatback and shuffled after him. 

 

The rain pounded the roof above them and they stared at each other, soaking wet and breathing hard. 

 

“Mohinder,” Sylar's voice cracked. He reached out and ran a finger down Mohinder’s chest, trailing over his stomach and down his cock.

 

Mohinder shivered, blood running so hot under his chilled skin. Sylar wrapped his hand around his erection and gently pulled him over by it. 

 

Mohinder felt like his heart would stop if it didn't slow its beat. 

 

Sylar's face was split in a hungry grin, teeth bared as he gasped. 

 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against Mohinder’s before pressing a wet kiss to them.

 

Mohinder grabbed his shoulders and climbed onto his lap. Sylar's wet clothes stuck to his skin as he writhed, kissing and touching him with hands and body. 

 

Sylar pushed Mohinder’s open shirt off his shoulders, leaving him naked. He ran his large hands over Mohinder’s back, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. 

 

The car windows were fogging as the rain poured harder, surrounding them in privacy. 

 

Mohinder placed a hand on Sylar's chest and pushed himself away, leaning over the front seat to dig in his bag. Sylar grabbed both cheeks of his presented ass with an appreciative moan. 

 

“Come back, baby.”

 

“Mmm,” Mohinder’s only reply as he found the lube he was looking for and turned back around. 

 

“Ooh,” Sylar closed his eyes as Mohinder crawled back, pouring lube on his fingers. Mohinder kissed him hard, perching back on his lap. He reached behind himself and ran two fingers around his hole, relaxing his body and pressing the tips in. 

 

He moaned, barely louder than the rain. Sylar opened his eyes, mouth falling ajar as he watched Mohinder’s hand work behind his swollen cock. 

 

Mohinder leaned toward him and gasped, tilting his hips back and working his fingers in deeper. His cockhead rubbed against Sylar's length. 

 

He reached for the lube discarded by his leg and asked for Sylar's hand. He poured a generous amount over all his fingers and whispered, “Help me.”

 

Sylar’s breath caught as Mohinder grabbed his wrist and moved so he was straddling only one of Sylar's legs. He knelt higher and guided Sylar's hand to his asshole, stretched tight around his own fingers. 

 

“Help me, Sylar.”

 

And he did - one finger sliding in next to Mohinder’s own, sliding deep.

 

Mohinder threw his arm up and braced himself with his forearm on the roof. He pistoned up and down, taking Sylar by surprise and Mohinder shook with the feeling of a long finger brushing against his prostate. 

 

“Yes. Sylar, yes, please,” he whispered.

 

Sylar cocked his head and watched him move, adding another finger. He gently thrust his hand, fingers brushing Mohinder’s as he did the same - Sylar's thrusts deep and full, Mohinder’s shallow.

 

Mohinder kissed him hard, lips sliding down and over his chin. “Another,” he breathed, resting his forehead on Sylar's. 

 

Nudging another wet finger at Mohinder’s entrance, he accidentally twisted his hand and Mohinder gasped, the feeling of fingers scraping inside him making him tremble. His legs gave out and he folded down, Sylar's finger pushing in abruptly. 

 

“Shit! Are you okay?” Sylar asked. Mohinder nodded without hesitation, mouth agape and head thrown back, panting tiny breaths. 

 

Sylar stopped thrusting to give him time to adjust but Mohinder kept moving his own two fingers, stretching the ring of muscle holding Sylar's fingers tight. 

 

Sylar bit his lip and slowly worked his fingers in, fully seated. He curled his fingers and pressed the heel of his hand against Mohinder’s perenium, thumb brushing against his balls. 

 

Mohinder curled back in to Sylar's body, hands gripping his arms as they kissed. 

 

Sylar dragged his curled fingers slowly down Mohinder’s channel until they brushed over his prostate. 

 

Mohinder gasped, mouth falling wide. Sylar kissed his lips, sucking and nibbling at his bottom one. He stroked over Mohinder’s prostate again, slow steady pressure. 

 

Mohinder jerked his body up; he had never felt anything like that. Like Sylar was touching all the nerves in his body at once. He was on fire. Sylar kept stroking and kissing him but he was too overwhelmed to kiss back. 

 

He felt Sylar’s thumb rub the back of his balls, his thumbnail dragging gently down the seam of them. 

 

“Sylar! Please!”

 

Sylar grinned, his pupils blown and cheeks pink. He was breathing hard and had never looked more fucked. 

 

He moved his fingers faster as Mohinder removed his, stroking deep with his whole hand then concentrating on the bundle of nerves.

 

Mohinder pushed at him as he circled his fingertips against his prostate. “Sylar wait, Sylar I have to,” he motioned outside with his head. 

 

Sylar’s brows knitted together. He smiled as he deciphered Mohinder’s request. “No you're not. Just ride out out.” He kissed Mohinder’s cheekbone and moved to his ear, “You're just about to come.” He bit Mohinder’s ear lobe gently. “You're gonna come for me, baby.”

 

Mohinder moaned, a long low sound almost lost to the rain beating down on the car. 

 

He shivered and pushed Sylar down. He stretched his thighs up, bending over Sylar as he hunched against the roof. He reached for the lube and Sylar's breath staggered. 

 

Sylar reluctantly removed his fingers, feeling Mohinder’s anus twitch around them. He bit his lip and wrapped his hand around his own cock, spreading the lube remaining between his fingers on the length. 

 

He sighed and stared at Mohinder. “Really?” he asked, eyes serious. 

 

“Yes,” Mohinder said, pouring lube down Sylar's cock. He smiled as Sylar gasped at the cold before curling his hand around his dick and spreading the lube around. “Yes, yes I want you so bad, fuck I want you.”

 

“God, baby, you have me. You fucking have me.”

 

He held his cock as Mohinder moved back up his legs. He rubbed it between Mohinder’s cheeks and over his swollen hole. 

 

Mohinder moved his hips until Sylar's dick caught his hole and he relaxed his muscles, lowering himself until the head popped in. They both paused, the only movement the minute twitches of Mohinder’s hips, uncontrollable and desperate. 

 

Sylar's cock was so much different than his fingers. So hot and warm and thick. Such a new and overwhelming feeling Mohinder stopped breathing to feel just the slide of being filled as he lowered himself. 

 

He watched Sylar gasp under him. His chest heaved under his wet shirt, pushing up while keeping his hips still until Mohinder was ready. 

 

“Sylar,” he moaned, lip slipping between his teeth as he raised up on his knees and slid back down. 

 

Sylar wailed, hands reaching up to stroke Mohinder’s smooth chest. He thrust his hips up, lost in sensation, and he watched Mohinder’s face.

 

Mohinder sat up as straight as he could and moved his hips forward and backward, Sylar's cock dragging in him as he moved. 

 

“Ooh baby. Oh god,” Sylar wrapped his hands around Mohinder’s hips and held tight as he was ridden. He pushed up in shallow thrusts, allowing Mohinder to control their movement but unable to stop. 

 

Mohinder reached behind him and grasped Sylar's legs, muscles tight under wet jeans, and thrust faster. The slight angle change made Sylar's dick brush right against his prostate with every thrust. 

 

The maddening pressure in his bladder was back and he felt pleasure radiating through his hips. He felt literally on fire. 

 

He held Sylar's eyes and his cock jumped as he rode Sylar hard. 

 

The rain had given way to hail, hitting the car hard in musical clanks.

 

It was so loud Mohinder let go and hollered as he drove his hips faster. He moved one hand up to brace against the roof and pushed. His hips moved faster and he was so full, Sylar's cock felt like it was filling every inch of him. 

 

Sylar stroked Mohinder’s hips and planted his feet, canting his hips forward and thrusting hard. 

 

They moved in tandem. The car was filled with the sound of their desperation - half bitten words, pants and gasps and long dragging moans, and the slap of skin on skin. 

 

Mohinder lost his rhythm and started twitching his hips, barely breathing. Sylar ran his fingers over his erection, pumping once, twice, and Mohinder came silently, spurts of thick come hitting Sylar's chest, so white against his black shirt. He breathed shallow and moaned loud, losing control. 

 

He closed his eyes as he continued to come, cock pulsing but out of fluids as Sylar's dick worked against his prostate. His legs went slack and he fell against Sylar. 

 

He felt Sylar's hands tighten on his hips and he looked down. Sylar thrust hard, lifting them off the carpet and he came as Mohinder’s aftershocks clenched around him. 

 

He moaned, one loud continuous sound that tapered into a whine as Mohinder felt the last jerk of his cock inside him. 

 

Mohinder kissed his cheek, his closed eyelids, the tip of his nose and his slack lips. Sylar sighed. He ran his shaking hands up Mohinder’s body and cupped his face. They kissed as Sylar slid out. Mohinder moaned into his mouth. 

 

Sylar grinned and slipped a hand between them. He gripped Mohinder’s softening dick and pulled gently. 

 

Mohinder turned and near screamed into the trunk’s carpeting. 

 

Sylar laughed. “Too much?” Mohinder could only gasp as he felt his cock twitch in Sylar's gentle hold. Sylar pulled Mohinder’s head over to him and kissed his wet curls. “Baby, you're amazing.” 

 

Mohinder’s hand curled in Sylar's tee shirt and he pushed himself up. He saw he had landed in his own come. “Oh,” he pouted. 

 

Sylar ran a thumb over a smear on his stomach and circled his tongue around it, moaning as he tasted Mohinder’s come. 

 

Mohinder panted, stuck between wanting to laugh and wishing he could get hard again so soon. “And you're rediculous.”

 

A slow grin crept over Sylar's face. It made Mohinder’s chest swell and he felt light headed. He kissed him so he wouldn't have to see it. 

 

Sylar's hands trailed up his back, lazy strokes as their kisses tapered in intensity to slow drags of lips and teases of tongue. 

 

Mohinder felt heavy and leaned down hard on his hands. Sylar nudged him up and curled up to take off his shirt, balling the come up in the center. He swiped the wet fabric over Mohinder’s chest where he still had some smeared on his skin. 

 

The air in the car felt freezing on their heated skin. While Sylar wrestled with his wet jeans, Mohinder pulled the blanket out from under the front seat. Sylar smacked his ass. 

 

“Mmm,” he hummed, rubbing Mohinder’s cheek. “Goddamn, babe.” He knelt behind Mohinder and pressed their bare skin together. His hands squeezed his hips and butt cheeks and he scraped his teeth at the juncture of Mohinder’s neck and shoulder. 

 

Mohinder leaned back and rubbed his ass on Sylar's soft dick. 

 

“Baby. Baby, oh, hold that thought, okay? I'll be back for that.” Sylar’s voice was light as he babbled. “I can't believe … fuck baby, you're amazing.” He sounded tired. 

 

Mohinder squeezed the hand on his hip and reached back to their bags, grabbing some dry clothes. 

 

He handed Sylar jeans and a sweatshirt and took boxers and a long sleeve tee for himself. He was too sensitive for pants yet so he left them folded in the trunk. 

 

They pulled clothes on awkwardly in the small space, Sylar laughing and Mohinder pushing his long limbs away. Sylar yanked Mohinder to the floor and pulled the blanket over them. 

 

He turned to face Mohinder and rubbed his hand on his cheek. He kissed him deep. Mohinder practically purred under the touch. 

 

He was exhausted. He knew he would be sore the next day but just felt a glowing numbness over his whole body right then. He watched as Sylar closed his eyes with a small smile on his face. 

 

He kissed Sylar's forehead and curled under his arm, feeling a warmth in his chest that did not come from the blanket. His stomach turned and he fell asleep. 


	51. Chapter 51

Mohinder woke before the first rays of the sun and turned into Sylar's side, deeper under his arm. He ran his hand down Sylar's ribs and over his hip. He slid his fingertips into the waistband of his jeans, biting his lip and waiting for Sylar to wake up. 

 

He was out cold though, breathing soft and deep, face half in the shirt he had bundled as a pillow. Mohinder smiled and stretched to kiss his cheek. Sylar didn't even move. 

 

Sleeping in the car sucked. Mohinder felt a stitch in his side and his back was killing him. He had to move. 

 

He slid out from under Sylar's dead weight arm and tugged his cold pants and muddy shoes on, shivering as he stepped out the back door. He stretched and waited to see if the other man would wake up; he remained asleep so Mohinder walked slowly around the parking lot, getting his blood moving to his sore extremities. 

 

Not to mention his other sore parts. He probably had bruises the shape of Sylar's hands on his hips. His ass felt tender, but in a gentle reminder way, not an unbearable pain forever kind of way. 

 

He thought of Sylar under him, big eyes and big hands, and certainly a sizeable cock deep inside him. Sylar, who always made sure he ate dinner. Sylar, who wrapped him in his clothes and in his arms to keep him warm. Sylar, whose first and last action every day was to touch him softly. 

 

Sylar, who had been so sweet and honest with him on the road. 

 

Sylar, who had caused him so much pain in the past, but who worked so hard to make amends every day. 

 

He signed. He had walked to the far corner of the rest stop, away from the sleeping truckers and drivers on one side and away from Sylar in their stupid Volvo on the other. 

 

The sun was just breaking the horizon and he moved to the edge of the parking lot to the overlook. The city underneath was quiet predawn, barely lit. The rain had stopped in the night but the smell of wet earth was thick in the morning air. 

 

The sky was starting to lighten as he watched. Clouds turned pale yellow in the deep blue sky, bands of magenta and tangerine on the horizon line announcing sunrise. 

 

Mohinder didn't jump when he felt Sylar's hand brush his lower back. He sighed and leaned into the touch. 

 

“Good morning,” he said, face still turned to the sky. 

Sylar placed answering kisses down the side of Mohinder’s neck, moving his collar to suck a lingering kiss where only he would see the mark. 

 

Mohinder signed as he felt teeth graze the fresh bruise. He leaned back against him, revelling in the warmth he found as Sylar wrapped an arm around him, hand splayed wide on his chest. 

 

“I've always loved sunrise,” Sylar said, voice rough from sleep. He sounded a little congested and Mohinder made a mental note to crack the window next time they slept in the car. 

 

“They're beautiful,” he replied. 

 

“It's the promise of a new day, a fresh start. No matter what happened yesterday, the sun always rises anew.” He stroked his free hand up Mohinder’s side and held him close. “Every day starts with beauty and possibility.”

 

Mohinder turned and saw him staring at the clouds. His skin had taken on the warm glow of the sky around them. “That's beautiful,” he whispered. 

 

“Mmm,” Sylar hummed. Mohinder grabbed the hand caressing him and brought it to his mouth for a wet kiss on the palm. Catching Sylar's eye, he wrapped his mouth around his middle finger tip, circling his tongue around it and sucking, releasing it from his mouth but holding it in his teeth. 

 

“Do you know what you do to me?” Sylar said quietly in his ear. 

 

Mohinder grabbed his hand pressed over his heart and ground his ass back, up and down, Sylar's trapped erection slipping between his cheeks. Releasing his other hand, he turned his face and grabbed Sylar's hair and whispered on his mouth, “I have a pretty good idea.”

 

Sylar wrapped his hand around Mohinder’s hip and pulled him so close he could barely keep moving. “I'm gonna give you better than an idea, baby.”

 

Mohinder nodded and felt Sylar’s hand move to his fly. He gasped as Sylar pulled his pants down under his ass, fingers encircling his growing cock. He rocked back and forth, into Sylar's hand then back against his dick. 

 

Sylar dropped his hand from Mohinder’s chest and worked down between their bodies to open his own fly. He hadn't put boxers back on the night before so his bare dick sprung out and Mohinder sighed as he felt it slap against his asscheek. 

 

“Oh,” Sylar took his dick in hand and slapped it against Mohinder’s skin again. “Fuck,” he breathed. 

Mohinder bent over the guard rail and looked at the early morning city awakening under them. He shivered with the thrill of it all. Another smack and he was fully erect and breathing hard. 

 

“Sylar.”

 

“Shhh,” Sylar said and ground himself hard against Mohinder. He pushed Mohinder over further, backing off a step and stroking his ass. His thumbs brushed over his hole, slowly sliding one in.

 

Mohinder had passed out right after sex the night before so he knew he was still lubed.

 

Sylar groaned when he found out. “Oh, baby. Honey. I - fuck,” he mumbled as he slid his thumb deeper. “Mohinder, I - fuck.”

 

Mohinder nodded, head loose as he leaned over the railing. “Yes please.”

 

He heard something click behind him and turned to look. Sylar was putting a tube of lube back in his pocket with telekinesis as he slicked his cock with one hand. His thumb was still hooked in Mohinder, deep enough to rub at his swelling prostate. 

 

Mohinder felt himself pulled back by Sylar's power to rest against his chest. He laid his head against Sylar's shoulder as he felt him press his cock against his hole, pushing in as he pulled his thumb out. 

 

Mohinder moaned and was cut off by Sylar pressing the heel of his hand to his mouth. “Quiet please.” His breath tickled Mohinder’s ear. He nodded and felt Sylar work himself deeper. 

 

Mohinder bit his lip. Sylar removed his hand and gripped Mohinder’s ass cheeks, pulling them wide so he could thrust deeper. 

 

“Give me your hands,” he ordered. Mohinder obeyed, bringing them together at the small of his back. He arched his back and pressed into Sylar's shallow thrusts. 

 

Sylar squeezed his cheeks. “Hands.” Mohinder placed his hands over Sylar's. “Pull. Open for me.”

 

Mohinder exhaled shakily and dug his fingers into his ass as he took over. Sylar leaned back to see Mohinder holding himself open for him and he thrust hard. Mohinder cried out and Sylar's hand was back to stifle it. “Shhh. Don't wanna wake the neighbors.” 

 

His pounding was relentless. Mohinder’s knees felt weak and his thighs banged into the railing with every thrust. He bit the fleshy part of Sylar's palm. He felt Sylar's tongue run the edge of his ear and he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He cocked his hips and the angle change allowed him to hit against Mohinder’s prostate with every move. 

 

Mohinder moaned and he felt a slight unseen pressure against his windpipe as a reminder to keep quiet. 

 

Sylar's invisible touch always did drive him crazy. 

 

He threw his hands over Sylar's head and pulled himself to his toes. He slammed backwards into Sylar and rolled his hips. 

 

It was Sylar's turn to lose volume control as he moaned deep in Mohinder’s ear. His movements were small and jerky; he never lost contact with Mohinder’s prostate. 

 

“Shhh,” Mohinder admonished, pulling back from Sylar's neck and looking into his eyes. His face cracked into a teasing smile that grew as he panted in time with Sylar's thrusts. 

 

“Mohinder, I -”

 

Mohinder cut him off with a deep kiss as he came, cock untouched, into the grass and gravel at their feet. He clenched around Sylar and watched his face as he too came, one deep thrust and Mohinder felt his cock pulse and Sylar's face fell into extacy. 

 

Bringing a hand to Sylar's face, he nuzzled his cheek and kissed him soft, both of their hips twitching with aftershocks. Sylar ran his fingers through Mohinder’s hair as he slowly pulled out. 

 

Sylar pulled back and kissed Mohinder’s temple. He pushed his hair back and searched his face. He sounded slightly amazed as he admitted, “I’m in love with you.” 

 

Mohinder stared at his open face, so vulnerable. He shook his head. “Don't,” he breathed. 

 

Sylar blinked. “What?” he sounded like he'd been punched. 

 

Mohinder shook his head and pushed away. Sylar didn't fight him. 

 

He pulled his pants up hastily, grimacing as he felt come slide down inside him. 

 

“Please don't,” he begged, not making eye contact. “Sylar, I can't, that's so - I'm - fucked up, I fucked up, I can't do this.” 

 

“Mohinder, please, I'm sorry,” Sylar grasped desperately. “Please, I'm so, I won't …”

 

Mohinder looked up at him. He had seen so many faces on Sylar, so many emotions, but heartbroken was new and wrenched a dry sob from his throat. 

 

“Sylar - why …” he reached out a hand to Sylar's face but dropped it. He took a step backward. “I have to go.”

 

“Mohinder no  _ please _ -”

 

Mohinder turned and walked, quicker and quicker until he ran. 

 


	52. Chapter 52

Mohinder ran, trying not to go fast enough to attract attention - well, more attention than someone running the side of the freeway would typically garner. He couldn't -

 

He just couldn't handle it. Sylar had vocalized what he had been afraid to even contemplate. He had labeled the emotion under their lust and brought fears Mohinder had been ignoring to light. 

 

He ran, legs burning as he powered over a hill, almost tripping as he started down and to the offramp. 

 

He didn't stop running the city streets until his legs folded under him and he leaned hard against a storefront. His weak legs ached, his ribs were definitely still bruised and fought against every struggling breath. He rubbed his face and tried to ignore the stinging behind his eyelids.

 

Fuck. 

 

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .

 

How could he be so stupid? 

 

He should have thought before he acted, before he allowed Sylar close to him. His mind raced, replaying instances he could have stopped and circling multiple what-if scenarios. 

 

He was afraid Sylar was lying, running him through a long game and playing him deeper and deeper for a nefarious purpose he couldn't see. 

 

He was afraid Sylar was lying, a knife twist of retaliation for old pains.

 

He was afraid Sylar was telling the truth, that the bogeyman had found something reflected in his own self, some twisted thing like love to the insane.

 

He was afraid Sylar couldn't hold back the words anymore, that he was truly just a man in love.

 

He was afraid Sylar was voicing something he saw deep inside Mohinder, a spark he had stupidly tried to bury under blind lust and silencing kisses. A spark fanned with every wandering touch, every nuzzle into a bared neck. With every morning waking up limbs atangle. Every slow kiss, every gentle hand, every claim made with an endurement.

 

And he was fucking scared he had walked away and couldn't take it back. 

 

He sat back on his heels, head against the wall. He signed. He wasn't scared of Sylar or any coulda wouldas. The only thing that scared him was his own damn self. 

 

He had let the same man that had terrorized him for so long touch him, fuck him,  _ love _ him. He had tried to keep their encounters physical - lust meeting lust, needs fed but not nurtured. 

 

He should have fucking known better. It's not like Sylar had ever been shy with his feelings. He had wanted Mohinder, and so he gave himself to him eagerly. He had offered tenderness and warmth and Mohinder had wrapped himself in it. He answered questions, talked about himself, listened as Mohinder did the same. Sylar took care of him. 

 

It was a damn relationship. 

 

_ Stupid.  _

 

Of course Sylar loved him. If he hadn't before, it was just a matter of time while they were together that he would have. Mohinder had egged him on, he'd begged and teased and eagerly followed through. He'd played with Sylar's emotions, knowing full well how attracted he was, and how quickly he developed a dependency to others. Mohinder had used that for his gain, to stave off loneliness and feed a greedy curiosity. He'd allowed Sylar access to his body, hoping to keep his heart to himself. 

 

He was afraid of the words he should have said after Sylar's confession. Just a couple little words - the verbal smiley face at the end of a phone call, the last words unsaid between them before falling asleep under heavy arms. Just a couple little words and the lie Mohinder had been trying to hide behind would crumble. 

 

He was afraid because if he said those couple little words, they would not have rung as a lie in Sylar's head. 

 

He was afraid he had lost his heart while he was playing ignorant. 

 

Damnit, damnit, damnit. 

 

Just like in the car the day prior, he couldn't see how he could just sever ties. He couldn't just walk away, he was too deep. 

 

He had to go back. See what he could salvage. See what he had lost. 

 

He fought to still his trembling hands as he stood, back against the building. The few people passing by were careful to avoid his eyes while still watching his breakdown out the corners of their own. He signed, angry at losing his shit. Angry with the situation. Angry at himself, but not with Sylar. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He walked back to the rest stop at a normal pace. A driver pulled over to offer him help on the side of the freeway but he waved them on. His chest grew more heavy as he neared the stop. 

 

He stopped at the edge of the parking lot, carefully out of sight. Sylar was perched on the Volvo’s hood, head down and hands in his lap. His long legs were folded together, making him look smaller as he was bent in on himself. 

 

Of course he wouldn't leave. 

 

Sighing, Mohinder felt the knot in his chest loosen. Maybe he hadn't fucked up irreversibly. He took a step around the tree he was behind and Sylar lifted his head, looking right toward him. His expression didn't change and Mohinder couldn't be sure if he had actually seen him. 

 

A car gunned through the lot in front of him and Mohinder leapt back. His back hit something solid and he tried to step away from it. A familiar feeling of freezing spread down his limbs and his heart skipped a beat. “No,” he whispered. 

 

“Yes,” came the voice behind his back. 

 

“Mohinder?” he could barely hear Sylar's voice from across the parking lot. He tried to call out but couldn't even open his mouth. 

 

“I should thank you,” the voice behind him said. “You've done everything  _ just right.  _ I didn't even have to push you.”

 

Sylar called out for him again, voice closer. Mohinder could feel his racing heart, he knew Sylar could hear it. “Mohinder!”

 

Mohinder's body jerked backwards. He was forced to take giant steps backwards, straight arms at his sides throwing him off balance. He heard the man right behind his ear. “But time is of the essence, and I'm going to have to push you now.” A couple more loping steps and his calves hit metal.

 

A strong hand reached around him and shoved. He fell like a board into the back of a van, legs quickly shoved in as his limbs loosened. He caught a quick glimpse of his attacker before he slammed the doors. He couldn't control his body, couldn't open his mouth to scream, he could just listen as Sylar called him again as the van started and pulled calmly out of the parking spot.

 

Fuck!

 

The man chuckled, dark and foreboding from the driver's seat as he pulled onto the freeway. “Sorry, but … this is going to hurt.”

 

Something hit Mohinder hard in the back of the head and he fell forward, face on the floorboard, and the world blacked out. 


	53. Chapter 53

Mohinder came to with a start, Sylar's name tumbling from his lips. His head throbbed white hot pain in time with his heartbeat, picking up pace as he looked around. He seemed to be alone in a small room, lights on to show thick soundproofing pads on the walls and ceiling. It appeared to have been a music studio - old mixers and tape decks lined the far wall, dusty with disuse. 

 

His movements were sluggish as he stood. It felt like his brain was going to push free through his eye sockets. 

 

“Oh good, you're awake.”

 

He spun to see his captor in the corner of the room, locking the door behind him. He used two keys, a padlock and an industrial lock bar. Mohinder was starting to think he was in serious shit. 

 

“Can you talk? Did I hit you too hard?” 

 

Mohinder snarled, barely holding back a feral growl. “Where did you take me?”

 

“Ah, he speaks.” The man looked completely normal except for his eyes. They glittered with a mania beyond any he'd ever seen. “Good. Good. I'd hate to have scrambled your brains. I hear they're good.” A slow smile crept over his face. He looked like anybody's friendly neighbor - hands in his pockets, hair neatly combed, shirt crisp. Friendly, save those eyes. There lay the promise of danger. “On second thought - maybe scrambled is the way to go. Do you think it would be like scrambled tofu? Soft and ambiguous? Or would the brain just melt away, so much fat, all gone, bye bye.” He walked slowly across the room's thick layered carpeting. Mohinder couldn't get his legs to move him away fast enough. 

 

He tripped on a cord and went tits up, lungs achingly full as he held his breath. The man stood over him, exuding casualness. Like Mohinder was a friend over for a beer. 

 

Before he could scramble away, the man flicked one hand from his pocket and down. Mohinder fell to the floor, struggling as the wind was knocked out of him. 

 

“You're not going anywhere. We're awaiting the man of the hour,” he said jovially. 

 

“Who?” Mohinder gasped. 

 

The man gave him a dirty look. “Oh, like you don't know.”

 

Mohinder shook his head, finally able to gasp air into his lungs. “You?!” he demanded. 

 

“Oh, I'm no one, really. Just … a catalyst. For change. The world, humanity, everything needs to change. I can't do it myself. But I can push the most powerful man in the world to do so.” He nudged the thick extension cord Mohinder had tripped over with his toes. “But for that, I'm going to need one little favor from you.”

 

“No,” Mohinder snarled. “Nothing.” His lungs wouldn't hold enough air for complete thoughts so he got straight to the point. “ _ Kill  _ me, first.”

 

“Oh, yes.” His dead eyes were wide. “That's exactly the plan.”

 

Mohinder kicked his legs; whether to lash out at the man or get away, either would be optimal. He had to get out. 

 

The man just smiled. It was losing the fake pleasantness, replaced with a frightening upward sneer, cold and empty. A weight fell on Mohinder's shins, pressing them incrementally into the floor. The thick carpet was no relief and a cry tore from his throat. “I can break those for you. Probably make my day a lot easier. A little more  _ Misery _ than I was planning, but effective.”

 

Gasping, Mohinder yelled, “No!” and the weight eased some. He could still feel his tibias strain under the immense pressure. “No, no, no no no,” he started, not able to stop as his panic worsened by the moment. 

 

He had to get out. He had to find Sylar, make sure this lunatic never did. 

 

“Keep struggling. You won't get anywhere. You may be strong, but you're no match for me.”

 

Mohinder grunted in pain. “Why me?”

 

The man sneered and crouched down. He grabbed Mohinder's face and turned it one way, the other, and back. “Because you're the only one who can make him become who he needs to be.”

 

“Gabriel?” He didn't know why he asked, he knew already. 

 

His query just set the man off. “Sylar!” His hand tightened on Mohinder's chin, the force pushing his cheeks into his teeth. He tasted blood. “Why he would care so much for you when you  _ belittle him,  _ when you _ disrespect _ his power, all he is capable of! He will  _ burn  _ this shit  _ down _ !”

 

“What are you talking about?” Mohinder yelled back. 

 

The man's rage was palpable in the air between them. “How can you be so stupid?!” He stood and slammed his hand against the wall. It echoed like metal under the soundproof cushions. Mohinder felt it reverberate under him. The weight lifted from his legs while the man was distracted and he pulled them to his chest, protecting his sore knees. He didn't dare stand yet. 

 

The man paced the short length of the room and continued, “They're hunting us. They're killing us, just because we exist.”

 

“Who?” Mohinder wanted to keep the man talking. More talking, less physical damage. 

 

“The government! So-called ‘norms’, unpowered people. Their time is over! We need to take control,” he growled. 

 

“And why do you think Sylar will help you?”

 

Teeth clenched, eyes hard, he answered, “Because he'll have nothing left to lose when you're dead. You're the key to his potential.”

 

“That's … ridiculous. You can't expect my death will set him mad.”

 

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He grinned, a nasty thing. “But your torture will.”

 

Mohinder couldn't hide the shiver that ran cold down his back. 

 

“Where is he? He's running late for the show. I'd hate to start without him,” he sing-songed, standing and looking at his watch. “Why isn't he here yet?” he asked. 

 

Mohinder shook his head. 

 

“I think you know.  _ Why _ isn't he here yet? He's been sniffing after you like a bitch in heat for years, he should be right up your ass.”

 

Mohinder cringed at the crude words. “Maybe he's smarter than you.”

 

“He's easily controlled. I took his favorite toy, he should come running. I think you know why he hasn't found us yet.” Mohinder shook his head again. “No. You're going to tell me.”

 

“You can't make me.”

 

He laughed, mirthless and wild. “Oh, but I can. That's what I do. Just a little bit of pressure,” he trailed off, one finger pointed between Mohinder's eyes. He felt a touch like the finger was actually on his skin. Harder and harder it pressed, like it was burrowing into bone. A scream ripped from Mohinder's mouth as the touch hit his brain, prodding painfully. It felt like his mind was on shuffle - recent memories crossing his eyes, old memories, things he had learned and forgotten from primary school books. 

 

The touch turned electric and Mohinder couldn't stop his mouth, “Hearing! He can't hear me in here!”

 

The probing touch receded, leaving Mohinder gasping on the ground. He didn't remember rolling to his hands and knees. He felt vomit rise in his throat and fought it down. Tears of pain and frustration fell from his eyes, blurring his vision. 

 

“Is that so?” The man grabbed Mohinder by the arm and wrenched him up. “How far away do you think he can hear you? Better yell loud, pretty boy.”

 

With Mohinder in tow, he unlocked the door and shoved his head outside. Mohinder took a step for balance and gasped when it was left dangling five feet in the air. They were in the back of a delivery truck. 

 

“Yell! Beg for him to come save you.”

 

“Gabriel,” he whispered. The man shook him and louder, he said, “Sylar. Sylar, please don't come.”

 

He felt the man's exhale on the back of his neck. Mohinder pulled his arm forward and with all his strength, jammed his elbow back, aiming for his gut. He never made contact, though, as he was swung around, back into the truck and off balance. He hit a storage freezer hard. He shook himself off and took running steps back at the man as he was locking the door. 

 

One raised hand from the stranger smashed him to the ground with such force Mohinder felt like he had collided with another car. His lungs burned for air under his screaming ribs. 

 

“What are you doing? Are you trying to take me by surprise? Overpower me?” he asked as he knelt by Mohinder. He growled, “You can't.” He dug one finger against Mohinder's skull, the touch burning him through his head. “Just a little bit of pressure … and your power is disabled. Just. Like. That.” He snapped his fingers and stood, leaving Mohinder trapped and breathless on the ground. 

 

He struggled to talk, to even breathe. “That's - that's your power? Pressure?” He remembered how fine the line of pressure could be with Sylar's invisible touch on him. Enough of it, enough force on a small enough line of power and he was sure it could tear through bone. Open skulls. “But. How do you control people?”

 

The man quirked a smile. “Sit,” he ordered and Mohinder's legs gave out. He collapsed painfully to the ground. “That cord?” Mohinder saw the orange extension cord under his legs. “Tie it around your ankles.” Mohinder tried to fight it but his body did as commanded. “See? A little pressure in the right spot and you're clay in my hands. Tighter. Tie it again. All the way up your legs, you're not causing me any more trouble today.”

 

Mohinder trussed himself up, knots and knots in the tangle of cord, his legs caught in the middle. Without his power, without his legs, he felt helpless. Without Sylar, he felt hopeless. Still, he wished on every star he'd ever seen, prayed to every diety he could think of, that Sylar wouldn't come, that he didn't hear his racing heart, his hushed plea, that he didn't  _ care _ . Please Sylar, stay away. Please Gabriel, run. 

 

“Hey!” The man's cry caught his attention a split second before Mohinder's body crashed to the ground, spinning face first. He heard the crack of his nose and gasped, thick carpet scratching against his lips, the smell of blood thick enough to taste. He choked, coughing against the dusty, bloody rug and pushed himself up. “I was  _ talking _ to you!” The man hit Mohinder with a strong backhand and Mohinder jabbed him in the shin, right under his knee. He saw it buckle and pulled back. 

 

Just because he didn't have his strength didn't mean he was defenseless. 

 

He leaned forward, spitting blood on the floor as the man fell. He started to grab at the cord around his legs but his hands were too slick. His eyelashes were heavy with tears and he swiped them away.

 

The man was pulling himself up on the freezer - why the hell was that there - and screaming in blind rage. Mohinder steeled himself for a fight. He resolved to not go down easy. 

 

The grating of rent metal filled the air and the doors to the trailer were pulled off. Mohinder heard them clatter to the ground on either side of the truck, a deafening sound drowning out his captor. 

 

Sylar was hovering outside in the air, arms easy at his side, head cocked. He grinned and blinked against the bright lights from inside the truck. 

 

“Honey. I'm home.”

 


	54. Chapter 54

Mohinder saw the moment Sylar noticed him on the floor. His cocky expression fell and worry took its place. “Mohinder!” He stepped into the truck and fell to his knees in front of him. “Baby, what happened?” He took Mohinder's face in his hands then hurried to take off his sweatshirt. He pressed it gently to Mohinder's nose, wiping his face with a sleeve.

 

“I told you not to come,” Mohinder whispered through blood and cotton.

 

“And when was the last time I listened to you?” Sylar asked gently.

 

“Great, you're finally here,” Mohinder's captor growled as he stood straight.

 

Sylar flicked his hand without looking over and the man flew into the wall. “I'll deal with you later.” He saw the cord around Mohinder's legs and tugged a loop. “What is this? Honey, if you want to be tied up, I can do it much better for you,” he winked as he sliced the bonds telekineticaly.

 

Mohinder stared and stretched his legs, recirculating blood. If Sylar was flirting, maybe he hadn't fucked up too bad. He wanted to apologize. “It's a trap,” he said instead. Sylar blinked at him. “He wants to use you, to get you to kill.”

 

“I want to get you change the world.”

 

They both turned to see the man pick himself up off the floor as Sylar helped Mohinder stand. “Oh my god,” Sylar muttered. Mohinder looked between both men.

 

“Hello, prisoner.” The man took a couple steps closer. Sylar elbowed his way in front of Mohinder. The man wasn't as tall as Sylar, but made up for it with the sheer malice emanating from him.

 

“No longer a prisoner, Agent.”

 

The man shrugged. “No longer an agent.”

 

Mohinder tried to focus but he swayed, catching himself on Sylar's shoulder. He didn't notice, his attention fully on the man in front of him. “Let Mohinder go.”

 

“No, I don't think I will. Doctor Suresh didn't serve the Company's purpose last time, he'll serve mine this time.”

 

“Fuck you,” Mohinder said, emboldened by Sylar's presence at his side. His consonants were slurred but the message clear. He hated that he had no idea who the man was, but he obviously knew Mohinder.

 

“I've got this. Parkman’s guy is on his way.”

 

“You do know his name.” Mohinder found himself smiling behind the blood.

 

“Of course I do.” Sylar grinned, “I'm just an asshole.” He swept his hand to the side, aiming the ex-agent back into another collision course with the wall.

 

But the ex-agent didn't budge.

 

Sylar tried it again. When it didn't work, he shook his hand and tried a third time, swearing at the third failure.

 

“Surprise. Guess who's evolved, bitch.”

 

“You weren't before, Wood.”

 

Mohinder touched Sylar's arm. He leaned into Mohinder without moving his eyes from their death glare. “He uses pressure. Physical and mental.” He shook Sylar, waiting to meet his eyes. “He can apply pressure to the brain where powers are. He shut mine down.”

 

“What?”

 

Behind the blood soaked sweatshirt, Mohinder shrugged. “I'm just a weak scientist now.”

 

“Honey, you were never _just_ a scientist. And you are by no means weak.”

 

A small smile crossed Mohinder's face. Sylar pulled the shirt back from his face and frowned. “Who is that?” Mohinder asked, voice thick. His face felt swollen.

 

“He was a guard at the Primatech facility. Used to guard my cell. Was always just a _little_ too interested in powers,” he answered, running gentle fingers down Mohinder's cheek.

 

“Um, hi. Hi.” Ex-agent Wood waved at them, slowly pulling their eyes forward. “Am I interrupting?”

 

Sylar was deadpan when he answered simply, “Yes.”

 

“Well, I'll just start then, okay.” He made it clear it wasn't a question when he flicked his finger and Mohinder doubled over in pain. It felt like he was hit in the stomach with a battering ram.

 

“What the fuck!” Sylar knelt by him again, jumping into action when Mohinder was hit again, spinning as a blow hit his shoulder.

 

Sylar ran at Wood standing in front of the blasted door. He willed the air between them to freeze and blow ice at him.

 

Wood yelled as ice stung his face. He covered it with his hands and Sylar wrapped his own hand over his collarbone, pushing him hard into the wall. The force shook the truck on its tires. Wood, eyes still shut with icicles at the corners, pulled at his hand.

 

Mohinder stood slowly up from his crouch. It felt as if his abdomen was ripping apart as he did. He saw Sylar pull back a fist and tried to call to him but he couldn't make enough noise.

 

“Multiple powers, bitch,” he snarled, hitting Wood sound in the face.

 

Mohinder fell again as he felt the full force of the punch against his own cheek. He heard Sylar hit the man again and felt another matching fist. He couldn't call out. He could hardly breathe through the pain.

 

Sylar screamed, a painful sonic explosion aimed at Wood. Mohinder felt it vibrate through his own head, though not at the intensity it would have if it were real sound. Wood must be using his power to emulate Sylar's attacks on him, but he only had air at his disposal to do so.

 

Mohinder took a couple weary, slow steps toward the men shadowed against the doorway but stopped when his arms moved without his say. His hands wrapped around his neck, thumbs crossed over his trachea in an approximate mirror of Sylar's chokehold on Wood. His hands were upside down where Sylar's were right side up. Both sets of hands pressed so hard.

 

He watched Wood struggle against Sylar's hands - hands which were starting to spark. Mohinder saw spots and fell to his knees, waiting for the electricity to dance on his own skin but it never came.

 

His lungs burned. His arms were weak, so weak, but he couldn't drop them. He slammed his back into the freezer behind him with more force than he thought he could muster. Did Wood release his power while he was under Sylar's attack?

 

Sylar turned to the noise and blanched when he saw Mohinder sinking into the carpet.

 

“Mohinder, what the hell!” He dropped Wood and spun to reach out.

 

Mohinder's hands fell from his throat as Sylar was halted mid step. “What the _fuck_!” Sylar yelled. He couldn't move. Mohinder watched his neck and arm muscles tense with fruitless effort.

 

The truck was filled with ragged, huffing breaths as both Mohinder and Wood sucked air into abused lungs. Mohinder tried to clear his throat but couldn't make a sound. Blood dripped into his mouth and he couldn't cough it up so he was left to let it drip sluggishly to the floor as he pulled himself to hands and knees.

 

“Mohinder. Mohinder!” Sylar's voice was thin and desperate. “What did you do?!” Mohinder couldn't discern who he was speaking to.

 

Wood pushed from the wall and staggered a step before catching himself and moving with more care to Sylar's ear. “Do unto others,” he rasped, barely audible where Mohinder was slower to pull himself from the floor.

 

Sylar started to scream again but his voice dropped suddenly to purely human when Wood put pressure on the power.

 

When Mohinder was up he looked around for a weapon. There were a few boxes on the far wall; the only thing nearby was the damn freezer. He grabbed its corners and took a chance. He pulled the freezer across the floor, tugging as it got caught in the carpets and heaved it in an arc around Sylar's still body and straight into Wood.

 

Wood yelped and slammed into the wall, pinned by the appliance.

 

Sylar pitched forward as the hold trapping him was lifted. He looked at Mohinder, hands on his knees and blood slowing to a trickle down his face. Mohinder nodded. Sylar turned back to the ex-agent.

 

He had murder on his face.

 

“Wait, wait, wait! I can help you!” Wood cried, hands up between Sylar and himself.

 

“I don't want your help,” he growled. He grabbed the man's neck and threw him back into the wall.

 

“Yes. Yes you do.” Wood struggled to get any words out from under Sylar's hand. “Open,” he wheezed, smacking the freezer lid.

 

Mohinder's vision doubled as Sylar opened the chest freezer and paused. Frosty air curled around him as he looked inside. His head snapped back up to Wood, nodding tiny rapid jerks of his head. “For you,” he said. Sylar's grip loosened and Wood sucked in air desperately.

 

Mohinder's breathing was shallow.

 

Sylar turned back to Mohinder. “I know what he did with the brains.” Mohinder pulled a face.

 

“Powers. I harvested powers for you.” Sylar dropped Wood’s neck and leaned against the freezer.

 

Mohinder struggled to call to him. “Gabr’l,” he slurred. Sylar turned, eyes wide. Mohinder could see his struggle clear on his face.

 

“What do I do?” he whispered.

 

“Save us.” Wood’s eyes were shining as he implored Sylar again.

 

Mohinder trusted Sylar. He trusted him to do what was right. He simply nodded at him as he fell to his knees.

 

Sylar grimaced looking at him, but turned back to Wood and his frozen brains. Wood sneered. “He was a distraction. _I_ know what you need. I know how you thirst for power, how much you want it. _Take it._ ” His voice gained strength and confidence as Sylar became more distracted with the organs in front of him. He trailed his hand over them in the freezer and Mohinder held back a shiver of distaste.“Take these,” Wood said, eyes turning to Mohinder, “and then take _his._ ”

 

Sylar looked up at Wood, head cocked, and stepped back. Wood shoved the freezer off of him with a deep exhale. Sylar stepped back, stiff.

 

Freed, Wood lost some of his vitriol. His voice was almost nervous. “I didn't know … what you did with them. Um, I have a camping stove if …” He shrugged and motioned to the boxes lined up behind Mohinder.

 

Sylar, face calm, reached in the freezer and took out a brain, frosty and off color. His hands glowed with a very pale light as he radiated heat into the organ. “Why does everyone assume I eat brains? Honestly, doesn't anyone think of diseases?”

 

He touched the partially thawed brain gently, fingers sliding over its folds. With a smile, he put it back and took out another, repeating the process.

 

“So, how do you take powers?” Wood asked. Sylar traded brains and hummed, ignoring the man. “Are they like melons? You searching for the right one? Jesus.”

 

“Something like that,” Sylar muttered. He huffed, never a patient man, and leaned into the freezer. Mohinder figured he was thawing them en masse as steam rolled through the air around him. He felt woozy, struggling to stay upright.

 

Sylar tipped his head back, a noise akin to orgasm spilling from his lips. The automatic answering shiver down Mohinder's back definitely wasn't one of disgust.

 

Sylar rolled his shoulders and stepped back.

 

Wood huffed. “Not good enough for you?”

 

“Ooh, no,” Sylar laughed. “Just … warming up.” Without warning, he spun on Wood and raised his arms, a violent whirlwind circling the ex-agent and knocking him off his feet. As he was blown about, Sylar sent balls of bright white light at him, circling in the wind. Wood yelled and pulled back like they burned him. He fell, lights blinking out in front of him, but he kept his eyes shut.

 

Sylar knelt in front of Mohinder, brushing his hair from his face. “Are you alright?”

 

No. “Yes.”

 

He smiled warmly and kissed Mohinder's forehead. “Are you ready?”

 

If it's the last thing he does. “I'm sorry,” tripped desperately out of his mouth instead. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have -"

 

“Stop.” Sylar put his fingers over Mohinder's mouth. “Mohinder, I love you, but now's not the time, baby.” His fingers slipped from his lips and his eyes followed. “Okay? Are we cool?” He bit his lip and waited for Mohinder to nod. He sighed and kissed Mohinder gently, lips metallic with traces of blood. Mohinder leaned into him, letting Sylar sooth the bruises on his cheeks with delicate lips.

 

They heard Wood recover behind them and Sylar hauled Mohinder up.

 

“What the _fuck_ was that!”

 

“You asked how I take powers. Not my preferred method, but it works.” Sylar snapped his fingers and seemed to teleport right behind Wood. “Boo.” He sent lightning crackling around Wood’s head, making him stumble.

 

Mohinder caught him - with a solid shove back at Sylar. Hot potato.

 

Mohinder blinked and Sylar had moved back next to him. Wood hit the wall again, the wind knocked out of him. Gasping, he grabbed the door’s lock bar, still attached to the floor after Sylar had ripped the doors off. He ran at them and swung; Sylar caught the bar and it melted in his hand. Wood tried to yell his frustration but it came out in more of a wheeze.

 

“Why are you fighting me?!”

 

Instead of answering, Sylar raised his hands. Nothing happened. He shrugged and used the power behind door number two as he grabbed Wood’s shirt and turned it to gold. He laughed watching Wood struggle to move.

 

He turned back to Mohinder with smiling eyes. Mohinder smiled back as he struggled to stay upright. Sylar touched the melted metal on the floor and the bar reformed in his hands. He threw it at Mohinder and disappeared with a wink.

 

Wood spun in a circle looking for him. He did look ridiculous with his arms up, stuck in his metal shirt. “Damnit! Get out here! Are you fucking invisible? That wasn't in your file.”

 

Sylar reappeared right behind him. “You didn't even check the powers you brought me?” he disappeared again. His voice rang through empty air. “Why, anything could have been in that mixed bag.”

 

“Imagine everything you can do,” Wood said. “Everything I've brought you. Everything we could take together.”

 

“You mean everything you tell me to do?” Sylar's voice echoed from everywhere. It made Mohinder feel sick. He blinked to clear his vision as Sylar popped back into sight in front of Wood. He said slowly, voice dark and low. “I will not be used.” He touched the gold over Wood’s chest and it started to melt from the shoulders down. It pooled around his wrists and waist, where Sylar stopped it and solidified it back to thick metal. Wood couldn't move.

 

The familiar ringtone from Mohinder's phone filled the air. “Sounds like your ride is calling,” Sylar growled. He let the phone ring in his pocket, frustration on his face as he found he couldn't turn invisible. Instead, he cracked his neck and Mohinder watched his shoulders thin and hair grow, hips widening as he shrank and confronted Wood behind the face of a woman Mohinder recognized from Sylar's sketches. “Why!”

 

“Oh my god,” Wood said with his eyes wide. Sylar morphed again in front of him, thumping his chest roughly with someone else's hands.

 

Sylar was changing into the victims.

 

Changing again, he staked forward and pressed Wood against the wall. Wood looked frightened and he sidestepped. Sylar continued to walk him across the floor. He changed into a blonde man in bathing trunks and a tank and Wood’s legs gave out.

 

“No,” he breathed.

 

Sylar tilted his head and muttered to himself, “Bingo.” He stood tall over Wood. “Why? You killed them all, for what? You bastard.” He pushed Wood with his foot and the man fell backwards with a whimper like it had been a kick. Mohinder saw fear in his eyes. Fear and a great sadness.

 

Sylar bent over him. “He had just proposed. They were at the beach _celebrating._ And then you showed up and she had to plan a _funeral_ instead.”

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Wood repeated.

 

“Sorry doesn't fix it!” Sylar yelled as he changed back into himself. Wood screamed up at him and Sylar looked at Mohinder and nodded.

 

Wood was picking himself off the floor, malice across his face. Mohinder said to him, “Sorry. This is going to hurt,” and he swung the bar, hitting him solidly on the back of the head. He collapsed. Sylar knelt to check his pulse.

 

Mohinder fell, body caught in the swing of the metal bar. His head was too heavy; he let it rest on the ground. His whole body had hurt, but he was quickly going numb.

 

“Mohinder?”

 

He couldn't get up to turn to him. He curled his fingers in the rug.

 

“Mohinder. Baby, don't.” Sylar grabbed him too hard, turning him over. He looked so worried. “Mohinder?” He pushed his hair back.

 

Mohinder's sight doubled, then blurred completely. He blinked it clear and struggled took raise his hand. Placing it over Sylar's racing heart, he said quietly. “Me too.” He tried to convey his feelings through his face but he couldn't. “Me too,” he repeated, hand falling from Sylar's chest.

 

“No, no, no, baby no, you don't get to do this.” He felt Sylar move him, holding him tighter. “Baby, no!”

 

Everything became numb. The pain. Sylar's teary voice. He thought his eyes were open but he couldn't see.

 

His body grew heavier and heavier and

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	55. Chapter 55

The first time Mohinder blinked awake he had to screw his eyes shut again against blinding lights. He was laying on stiff cotton sheets, bare chested and cold. His whole face hurt, down his neck and ribs and deep along his spine. He couldn't breathe without pain radiating from his chest. 

 

He struggled to move his legs and found even his dick hurt. 

 

He heard people shuffling around, two voices yelling. One was familiar and he fell back to unconsciousness as it warmed him. 

 

The next time he woke up the lights were dimmed. He felt a wave of nausea hit him as he turned to see the room. A man in a white coat was across the room and turned to him as he moved. His face was somber as he said, “Welcome back, Doctor Suresh.”

 

Mohinder's breath caught. He fought the thick feeling of sickness in his throat and croaked, “How?” His throat felt crushed, he couldn't ask anything further if he tried. 

 

“Don't worry about that now, I need you to -"

 

“Mohinder!” Sylar tried to get through a nurse built like a linebacker but she blocked him well. “Move, damnit!” He had a hand in the door but couldn't squeeze any further. 

 

“Sir, I've told you, you're not allowed in! If you can't wait in the lobby, I'm going to have security escort you out for good.”

 

Mohinder tried to sit but his body and the doctor both stopped him. Pain radiated through every part of him and he gasped. A machine started beeping frantically behind him. 

 

“Lay down, now! You're going to hurt yourself further!” The doctor pressed him down by the shoulders. Mohinder flinched as one popped painfully. Turning to the nurse, the doctor ordered, “Get him out of here, now!”

 

“You heard him, go. You're stressing your friend out and we can't help him if we can't get his heart rate stabilized.” The nurse had her hands up as if to physically push Sylar out. “You'll be the first to know as soon as his condition changes,” she tried to sooth. “But you need to leave.”

 

“You need to get out of my way,” Sylar growled. 

 

The nurse puffed up. “I will remove you if you push me.”

 

Sylar leaned over her. “Try me.” His fists were clenched, his face hard and intimidating. 

 

The nurse didn't budge. Instead, she grabbed Sylar's arm and swung him in an impressive arc around her, through the room, and out into the hallway. Mohinder's eyes shot wide as he saw Sylar airborne. He sat up when he heard what could only be his body slamming onto the floor. 

“Damnit,” the doctor muttered, pulling Mohinder back down and ordering the nurse over as she slammed the door. To the nurse, he grumbled, “What did I tell you about that, Humphreys?” 

 

She held Mohinder down effortlessly, as if he were a cloth doll. Her hand was carefully over the bruising on his chest and under that on his neck. “I took care of the problem. We can't afford another incident.”

 

The doctor shook his head, prepping an IV bag. Nurse Humphreys grabbed the stand with her free hand and wheeled it by Mohinder's head. He was still struggling to move but his legs were caught under tight sheets and the rest of his body was too weak and painful to go far. 

 

“Your bedside manner needs improvement,” groused the doctor as he grabbed Mohinder's arm, inserting a needle. Mohinder wanted to fight but couldn't. 

 

“He's not at my bedside. He'll be fine, anyway, he's a healer.”

 

Mohinder jumped. “H-how?” he wheezed. Where the hell was he? How did they know Sylar had that power? And why have someone on staff flaunt enough power to throw Sylar around like that? 

 

Humphreys patted his hand. “Never mind, dear. You're safe. Your friend will be too, if he stays out of my way.”

 

The doctor cleared his throat as he connected the IV. “I'm putting you under, Doctor. You won't heal if you're so stressed.”

 

“No,” Mohinder muttered, but he was already fading away. His last thought was of how silent Sylar was in the hallway. 

 

It was dark in the room the next time he woke up. Small dots of light shone from machines lining the wall, one small desk lamp was on in the corner. His breathing was shallow. His pulse beat steady, faster than usual but not dangerously so. He shut his eyes. 

 

Rustling next to him jerked him awake again - he thought he was alone. A short figure in a lab coat was rising from the chair next to his bed. 

 

“Are you okay?” the woman asked. Mohinder nodded as she pressed cold fingers to his temples. “Are you awake or are you going to conk out on me again?”

 

“Awake,” Mohinder whispered. “Mostly.”

 

The woman smiled crookedly. It looked awkward, like it wasn't an expression she usually wore. “How do you feel?”

 

Mohinder's throat was tight but he could answer. “Like I was hit with a truck.”

 

“Honey,” the woman cooed, brushing his hair from his head. Her name tag said she was a doctor. 

 

“What's wrong with me?”

 

The doctor hummed. “Besides the surface injuries, you have a broken nose, multiple points of internal bleeding and cardiac contusions.”

 

His heart was bruised. “How?”

 

Her face broke into a look that could only mean ‘I told you so’ and she answered, “Usually it's seen in car accidents.”

 

Mohinder blinked and smiled. His nose and cheeks hurt with the action. “But you'll fix me, won't you, Doctor Gray?”

 

The woman looked confused and glanced down at her name tag. Mohinder grabbed her by the lapels and pulled her toward him, ignoring how the IV tugged at his skin with the action. 

 

“You're not very sneaky,” he whispered. 

 

The woman looked at him with curiosity. “No, I am. You just know me too well,” she said. 

 

“You're going to get in trouble.”

 

“You're worth it.”

 

Mohinder pulled Sylar down, knowing for sure it was him behind the stranger's face. The women's lips were softer than the pair he was used to, but the urgency behind them was the same. The hand winding in his hair was small and dainty where he expected long fingers on a wide palm. Sylar used the foreign hand to pull the same, though, tugging the hair right behind his ear to tilt his head. 

 

Sylar leaned against the bed, too short to reach around Mohinder's head and balance on the pillow without. Mohinder traced up a thigh, soft under scrubs. Sylar moaned, a high breathy noise through someone else's windpipe. “I was so worried, Mohinder.”

 

Mohinder could just nod as he continued their kisses. Their tongues brushed and he pulled back. “You taste funny.”

 

Pale blue eyes watched him under a familiarly perked eyebrow. “I had some gummy worms. The vending machine is rather lacking.”

 

“Hmm. That's part of it. But you don't even taste the same, you don't smell the same.” Mohinder looked at him, brushing his hand through dyed hair; it was way too long. 

 

“Is that bad?” he stroked Mohinder's cheek softly, wary of his injuries. 

 

“I like  _ you  _ better.” He kissed the corner of Sylar's borrowed mouth, feeling the familiar tiny sigh across his cheek the action always produced. He curled his hand over Sylar's shoulder, thumb rubbing down over his clavicle. 

 

The door opened and Nurse Humphreys’ voice interrupted them. “Doctor Melvin, I thought you had left. Isn't it your vacation? You've been counting down the hours for weeks.” Sylar, eyes wide, tried to carefully extract himself from Mohinder's hold. He turned, straightening his coat, and Humphreys rolled her eyes. “Damnit you, I thought I made myself clear. I told you to leave. You  _ cannot  _ be in here unless it's visiting hours.”

 

Mohinder and Sylar exchanged looks. Sylar's visage hasn't slipped at all. 

 

“Don't play dumb. I know way more than you, you can't play me the fool.” She put her hands on her hips. “So just stop it.”

 

With a sigh, Sylar changed back to his own form. He rolled his shoulders, stuck in the tiny white coat. He struggled out of it and threw it at the nurse. 

 

She threw it over her shoulder and cracked her knuckles. “You want to throw a tantrum, I'll show you what I can throw. Again.”

 

Sylar held up his hands. “Please no.”

 

She laughed, not unkindly. “I didn't even throw you that hard. Want to see what the inside of a wall looks like?”

 

“I know  _ all too  _ well,” he replied, bitter and sarcastic. Mohinder grabbed his hand. 

 

“Then don't push your luck,” Humphreys told him cheerfully. “I do need you to leave now, back to the waiting room. Or leave. Go take a shower. Sleep in a bed. Your friend isn't going anywhere without you.”

 

“Boyfriend,” Mohinder whispered. Sylar turned to him, shock on his face. Mohinder ignored him and said louder, “He's my boyfriend. I want him to stay.” He bit his lips and looked up at Sylar, worry eating at his nerves. “Is that okay?”

 

Sylar squeezed his hand. “Yes. God yes, Mohinder, yes! Baby,” he smiled. 

 

“Be that as it may, gentlemen, we do have _ laws  _ we have to follow. And the law states that only immediate family can stay.”

 

“He's all I have in the States.” Mohinder felt ecstatic and nervous, but Sylar's hand in his was solid and warm and comfortable. 

 

“I'm sorry. I really am.” Her voice was gentle but held a finality that couldn't be argued with. 

 

Sylar signed. He bent to kiss Mohinder's forehead, slipping down to his cheek and finally his mouth. “I'll be right outside,” he told Mohinder as he pulled back. Turning to Nurse Humphreys, he added, “For now.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She ushered him out, shooing him when he turned to look back at Mohinder. She shoved him into the hallway and turned back herself. “Can I get you anything, dear? Are you comfortable?”

 

“Unless you’ll let Gabriel back in here, I'm fine.”

 

She signed. “Oh my god, there's two of you now. I think I preferred you silent and knocked out. Hit the button if you need anything.”

 

“Yes. Thank you.” He lay back on the pillows, adjusting himself to something resembling comfort. He pulled the thin blankets up to his chin and shut his eyes. 

 

He heard the door open and close but didn't see anything. He closed his eyes again but jumped when something grazed his hip. 

 

“Scoot over,” he heard Sylar's voice in the dark. 

 

“Gods, Sylar, you're going to give me a heart attack.” He moved over and watched the blankets pull back and rest over invisible limbs. 

 

Sylar's hand draped over his shoulder, his legs tangling around one of his own. “That's not funny. You're actually very vulnerable right now. I did look at your charts, perk of playing doctor.”

 

“So Doctor Gray,” Mohinder smiled and blindly searched out Sylar's hip. “Am I going to live?”

 

“You'll be fine.” Mohinder felt his hand graze over his cheek. “I can help you. You can walk me through doing it right this time.”

 

Mohinder thought of his blood, flowing with power. “No thank you.” He tightened his hold and looked down. “This has really shown me my mortality, but it's shown me I'll survive, I'll be alright as just myself.”

 

“You know it doesn't have to be just yourself. I'm here, baby.” He felt Sylar kiss his cheek and looked up. He tried to search for Sylar's eyes, but his invisibility was complete. “So, boyfriend, huh?” His voice was smiling. Mohinder could see the expression in his head and he felt uncontrollably happy. 

 

“Is that alright?”

 

“Baby, you're all I ever wanted.”

 

Mohinder felt his lips on his own and leaned into the kiss. Sylar ran gentle fingers through his hair and tilted his head for a better angle, wary of his broken nose. Mohinder blindly found his cheek and held him close. 

 

They settled into the bed, bodies as close as Mohinder's injuries would allow and Mohinder cleared his throat. “So, uh.” Sylar hummed for him to continue, fingers in his curls. “This is the first time in weeks I've slept under blankets. So don't hog them, please.”

 

Sylar's rumbling laugh was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep. 

 

He woke up again in the dim room with Sylar's unseen fingers on his lips. 

 

“Shhh, someone's coming,” he said as he slipped from the sheets. They caught on his legs and Mohinder fought to keep them. It was hard, not seeing what he was struggling with. 

 

The sheet snagged on him and his eyes watered. He hadn't realized he had a catheter. Of course. At least that explained why his dick was sore. “Ow, ow,” he fixed the sheet and felt Sylar turn his face by his chin, lips brushing against his own. Mohinder hummed and drowned in the feeling, eyes shut against oddly empty air. 

 

The door opened and he tried to hide behind an awkward stretch, careful not to lean into whatever space Sylar was hiding in. 

 

“Oh, you're awake. Good morning. How are you, can you talk today?” The same doctor from before clicked the door shut behind him as he entered. 

 

After tentatively testing his voice, Mohinder found he could, better than the night before. He nodded. “Where am I?” he asked

 

“A private hospital for specials and evolved humans. Your friend brought you.” He was checking the various machines against the chart in his hand, humming approval. 

 

“Boyfriend,” Mohinder corrected. “Where is this hospital?”

 

“San Francisco. You're lucky you were so close, your injuries were severe.”  He looked up, face serious. “You're healing faster than normal. That's not your power.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

The doctor pointed to a sign on the wall stating:  _ Video recording in process for safety and security purposes.  _ “We use facial recognition to match known evos in multiple databases. All that doesn't fit on the sign, though.”

 

“All that doesn't seem legal.”

 

The doctor looked down, incredulous, and asked, “Have you been living under a rock the last six months?”

 

“Actually, that's not far off.”

 

“National law went into place ‘for humanity's continued safety’ that evolved humans are to be tracked and known. There's been appeals to repeal because of invasion of privacy and human rights. It's stuck in legislation right now.” He grabbed a new bag for the IV and swapped it out. “How's your pain?”

 

“Tolerable.” His mind was heavy with the news; he had been too successful avoiding news for something so big to have happened. “How are they tracking people?”

 

“Voluntary registration. It's not voluntary, though. Remember when Don't Ask Don't Tell because a witchhunt, an excuse to out people and discharge them from military jobs?” Mohinder nodded. “The policy sounded alright at the time, but it had shitty execution. Same thing here. There's a hotline to call if you suspect someone of being evolved and undocumented. While it seems like it's in people's best interest to keep dangerous, powerful people capable and willing to commit crimes in check, the tracking system is inhuman. Can you stand?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed. He wasn't sure he could but damn he'd try. 

 

Slowly, he stood. 

 

Shivering, he asked quietly, “Why didn't you tell me?” In an instant he felt Sylar's hand soft at the small of his back. He assumed he'd get an answer later. 

 

“Hmm?” the doctor questioned as he snapped latex gloves on. 

 

“Nothing,” he muttered, leaning back into Sylar's touch. 

 

His body hurt exponentially more standing. What wasn't bone deep sore was weary and weak. He swayed and Sylar caught him; he grabbed the bedframe to look like it was his own action. “If I'm healing fast why does everything hurt?”

 

“You're experiencing bruising and surface injuries mostly, your body healed the internal injuries first. You had cardiac contusions when you were admitted, and internal bleeding. Your trachea was near crushed, nose broken, and you were bruised head to toe.” He looked up, face serious. “I need to ask you some serious questions, Doctor.”

 

Mohinder nodded as he stretched little by little. Some of his aches were from bedrest he was sure; he wondered how long he had been asleep. 

 

“Since we run facial recognition, we know who your friend is.”

 

Mohinder's heart stopped. “Boyfriend,” he said almost silently. 

 

The doctor inclined his head - not a confirmation, but acknowledgement before he continued. “We know Gabriel Gray has been under investigation for murder in New York, wanted for questioning in a dozen states, and has been on the run for years.” Mohinder jumped to defend him but the doctor raised his hands and continued. “We are not in the practice of handing people to the authorities. I just need to know - based on some of your injuries - if you feel safe in your relationship? Have you ever felt unsafe? I can call a specialized sexual assault nurse if you need.”

 

“What?” Sylar's hand had all but left his back. “Yes, yes I'm safe. Gabriel has never hurt me while we have been together,” he answered carefully. 

 

The doctor looked at him, disbelieving. “You have wounds, on your hips and -"

 

“They are unrelated,” he snapped, anger helping him him feel stronger. 

 

“I am required to ask.”

 

Mohinder learned against the bed. The tape holding the tube to his thigh pulled at his hairs as he moved. “And you got your answer.”

 

“So to be clear, your sexual relations have been consensual?”

 

“Enthusiastically so.” The finality edging his words shut the subject down. Sylar's hand was tentative on his back and he leaned into it. 

 

“And the rest of your injuries?”

 

“Assault. I was kidnapped.”

 

“Did your attacker …” his eyes glanced down at Mohinder's hips before snapping back to his face as he tried to find the professional and politically correct way to phrase his question.

 

“No. Do you need to get Gabriel in here to compare his hands?” He felt snide and childish but he was getting pissed off. 

 

“No. I trust your answers. The rest of your injuries, then. Can you explain what happened?”

 

He did the best he could. Without saying they were chasing the murderer specifically to clear Sylar's name. And without giving his connection to the man. 

 

The doctor - Gomez, his name tag stated - nodded. “The capture was on the news. He's in custody.”

 

“With the police?”

 

“No. Somewhere more prepared for a man of his talents.”

 

“Good.” They did it. He felt Sylar's hand rub the small of his back and press his lips to his shoulder. He signed, leaning into the touch. “When can I be released?”

 

“You're healing fast but I'd like to keep you overnight. We had to give you two blood transfusions but the bleeding stopped yesterday, you just have bruising in your stomach now. We had to reset your nose, hope it's the right shape.”

 

Mohinder frowned and tenderly poked at his nose. “I'd like to use the restroom please.  _ Alone.  _ Can you unhook me?”

 

Doctor Gomez nodded, pressing a button on the wall. Nurse Humphreys entered the room with a hand full of files.

 

“Feeling better today, Doctor Suresh?” she asked, moving to his hand to unhook the IV. She paused, looking at the wall. “Goddamnit. You were just outside.” She took two long steps to the wall with a glare. “Come on.”

 

Mohinder heard Sylar sign as he blinked into visibility again. “You're scary,” he told the nurse. 

 

“Thank you. What the hell.” She was mere inches from Sylar, pressing him into the wall. 

 

He held up a hand and motioned for her to back off. Her face hardened as she did. “Projection. You saw an illusion in the waiting room.”

 

She huffed. “Figures you wouldn't actually be out there like a good boy. Reading and pacing and sleeping like you  _ should  _ be doing.”

 

“Really?” Mohinder winced as Doctor Gomez finished removing wires and tubes.

 

Sylar shrugged. “It was good practice, holding the projection, moving it around.”

 

“But you were asleep.” Sylar just nodded. Mohinder found he could still be in awe over him and his powers. Fifteen new powers rushing in his blood. Fifteen new powers to watch him learn and master. It was overwhelming. “I'll be right back,” he said, brushing off Sylar's offer to help him across the room to the bathroom. 

 

He shut the door harder than necessary and learned against the sink. His face was almost unrecognizable under the swelling of his nose and cheeks. He looked greasy and pale, too. He took off the cotton hospital gown and swallowed hard, following the bruising in the shape of his own hands on his neck to the side of his ribs where he had hit the runway car.

 

His stomach was purple up to his chest. Sylar's handprints on his hips and the bites on his collar stood in contrast to the violence painted on his flesh. He traced fingers over the marks Sylar had left with a sigh. 

 

When they faded, he wanted Sylar to dig his fingers in again. He wanted to carry his mark, hands and mouth and greedy teeth, wanted to feel claimed. 

 

Goddamn. He thought he should feel different, after voicing his own declaration, but he didn't. It just felt … right. Inevitable. 

 

He fixed his clothes and ran wet fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it but he couldn't without a full shower. Back in the hospital room Sylar was leaning on the bed and filling Doctor Gomez in on the blanks Mohinder had missed while he was more out of consciousness than in. 

 

He sat on the bed next to Sylar stiffly, legs crossed. It sounded like he barely made it. Without Sylar, he probably wouldn't have. 

 

He felt Sylar's hand on his thigh and grabbed it tight as he stared blankly ahead. 

 

They finished talking and Gomez reasserted that the soonest Mohinder could be released would be the following day. The nurse glared as she said it was officially visiting hours and Sylar was welcome to stay, if he behaved. Sylar made no such promises. 

 

Once they were alone, he helped Mohinder back under the covers. He sat in the chair and Mohinder pouted. “There's obviously room for two up here.”

 

Sylar smiled and wrapped around Mohinder carefully. 

 

“Thank you,” Mohinder said quietly. 

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything. Just - everything,” he signed. “How did you find this place?”

 

“Had a little help from your friends. Called Miss Walker, she tracked down the nurse in Texas, Nick? Her friend hacked into his phone and connected us. He told me where to go. There's a huge public service community for evos everywhere but they're careful to stay hidden.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me about the government tracking? The registration?”

 

“Honestly, I thought the was no way you  _ couldn't _ know. You really blinded yourself.” Mohinder nodded. 

 

They lay in silence, Sylar's fingers winding through Mohinder's hair. Mohinder's fingers trailed under his shirt and Sylar kissed behind his ear. 

 

“Mmm. What do we do now?” Mohinder asked. Sylar answered with wandering fingers and a rumbling growl at his temple. “Oh, baby, not today.”

 

Sylar signed. “I know.” He slid his fingers down to Mohinder's thigh. “But … your phone  _ has _ been ringing off the hook. You keep getting messages from Parkman. And someone offering you a job.” Mohinder raised his eyebrows and motioned for him to continue. “One of Rebel’s people. Thought you might like to bring more dangerous evos in, stop them before they hurt more people.”

 

Mohinder swallowed. Like they had done such a bang up job already. Like this time hadn't almost killed him. 

 

He turned in the tight sheets and looked in Sylar's eyes, dark and soft in the light. With a smile, he answered, “Only with you at my side.”

 

“We do make a good team, huh?”

 

“We make a good something.” Three little words carrying the weight of the world caught in the back of his throat. Three little words, both sweet and bitter, wanting free but he couldn't release them. 

 

He pulled Sylar into a kiss instead, watching his face, hoping he could taste what Mohinder couldn't say. He let his lips form the words against his mouth with his hand over Sylar's heart. 

 

“Yeah. We make a good something.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. Writing something this long has shown me my weaknesses (not editing enough, rambling, were those ten chapters even necessary, being a total control freak) and I'm always down with criticism. Constructive or not. Nobody beats me up like I do, so bring it if you want, please. 
> 
> I started writing this as half a challenge to myself - can I finally finish writing something? Can I set time out of every day, minutes or hours or all day, to write? Can I finish something for ONCE IN MY LIFE damnit. 
> 
> And just because I wanted to. 
> 
> So thank you, people who wanted to read this. 
> 
> I made an 8track mix for this. Mostly Sylar-centric. Spoiler alert, it's Depeche Mode. 
> 
> https://8tracks.com/alicen-l/salvation-was-always-you
> 
> Stay tuned for a tiny epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks again!


	56. Epilogue

Sylar couldn't sit still. He buttoned his shirt up all the way, grumbled and unbuttoned one, then the top two. He was starting to mess with his rolled sleeves when Mohinder grabbed his hands. 

“Stop it. You look fine.”

Sylar didn't answer. He crossed his feet, picking at his fingernails in his lap. He was going to drive Mohinder insane. He placed his hands over Sylar's, stopping his fidgeting again. 

“What is wrong with you?” Mohinder squeezed his hands as he looked out the window instead of answering. 

Sylar sighed, not looking over. “I'm nervous.”

Mohinder laughed. “Why?”

Finally looking over with a glare, Sylar huffed, “I've never done this before.”

“You'll be fine,” he assured, face softening as he saw Sylar's nerves fraying. “I promise.”

Sylar wasn't convinced. “They don't know I'm coming. What if … she knows? About me? What if she doesn't like me?”

Mohinder raised Sylar's hands and kissed them, one by one. “I like you.”

A smile finally cracked Sylar's face. “I know.”

“So shut up. Stop worrying. You're stressing yourself out for nothing.”

Sylar sighed and started to say something but the intercom interrupted him. The announcements were in Tamil then repeated in English as the seatbelt light blinked on over their seats. They were about ten minutes to landing. 

Mohinder leaned back in his seat, watching Sylar as he leaned over to look out the window. Mohinder had made the trip home enough times to know what the city looked like from the sky. He loved seeing it as the plane swept over but he was enjoying watching Sylar see it for the first time. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched Sylar's profile as he tried to see everything at once. 

“What are you looking at?” Sylar grumbled, turning slowly when Mohinder didn't answer. 

Mohinder stayed silent, smiling as he stroked down Sylar's face. He ran his thumb over his thick bottom lip, watching his breath catch. 

Sylar pouted as Mohinder withdrew his hand. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Your mother is going to think I beat you.” 

The bruise high on his cheek was still dark and swollen but the finger marks wrapped around his neck were fading. The bruising under his eyes from his broken nose was still the worst of it. Sylar had packed him sunglasses but it was useless to try to hide. He'd heal soon enough. 

“My mother knows I can take care on myself. She will know I'm not being abused.”

Sylar looked down at his lap, hands wringing together again. “But what about Molly?” he asked so quietly. 

“Molly suggested that you come.” Sylar's head snapped up at that and Mohinder grinned. “Now are you out of excuses?”

With a sigh, Sylar gave up. “If this all goes to hell, remember I tried.”

Mohinder pulled him close with a hand behind his ear. “If this all goes to hell, it's because you're being an ass.” He leaned and met him halfway for a kiss. Sylar melted against him.

He let himself get lost in Sylar's lips, gentle against his own. His hand found Sylar's thigh and he moaned as he ran his fingers up and down.

Sylar pulled back as Mohinder’s hand traveled higher. “Watch it, handsy.”

“Mmhmm,” Mohinder bit his lip as he watched his fingertips slip over the creases of Sylar's pants over his hip. 

“Mohinder,” Sylar chastised. He stole Mohinder’s cup, sipping on his last finger of whisky. 

“Hey, I was drinking that.”

Sylar shrugged. “I told you to order more. I'm really enjoying first class,” he added, leaning back and spreading his legs as he sipped the drink. 

“I knew you would. Give you some room for all this leg,” Mohinder teased, slipping his hand to trail along Sylar's inseam. 

“Whatever. You love all this leg.”

“I love them wrapped around me,” he purred. 

“Mohinder!” Sylar laughed, pushing him back. “Stop!” He lowered his voice conspiratorialy, “I can't meet your mother with a hard on.” He blushed and bit his lip. 

“We have five minutes,” Mohinder leaned into his ear, “Meet me in the lavatory. I'll fix you right up.”

“Mohinder! Damnit.” He turned away and gave up sipping the drink, instead throwing the remains back in one hard swallow. Mohinder watched his Adam's apple jump and licked his lips. 

Damn. He would be the one hiding an erection getting off the plane. 

He sat back, arm resting comfortably against Sylar's. “I win,” he said quietly. 

“What?” Sylar turned back to him. 

With a smile, Mohinder continued, “You're not nervous anymore, yes?”

“Damnit Mohinder, you can't use seduction as a relaxation technique!”

“Sure I can. I can use it for all sorts of things. You kind of play right into it,” he winked. 

Sylar didn't look amused. “I can't stand you.” He looked back out the window. Mohinder saw him try to hide his smile behind his hand, leaning against the porthole as they landed. 

Mohinder placed his hand at the small of Sylar's back until they stood, both hunched awkwardly under the short ceiling. Mohinder stepped back to allow Sylar to walk in front. He placed his hand on his back again and they slowly disembarked. 

He rubbed a gentle circle with his hand right over Sylar's ass as he felt his muscles tense on the gangway. They stopped as slow people in front of them blocked the exit. He kissed under Sylar's ear, trying to ignore the stares he could feel on his back. Whether it was his injured face, their casual affection, or just the fact that Sylar loomed over everyone else like a thin pale ghost, they had attracted attention the whole trip. Mohinder took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever lay ahead. 

They finally entered the terminal, Sylar rushing to the side to get out of the crowd. Mohinder followed, eyes wandering over the crowd. 

“Mohinder!”

He heard a voice ring through the room, less childish than the last time he had heard it, but unmistakably Molly. He smiled at the hand he saw waving and jumping over the crowd. 

Sylar stood next to him, quiet and still. Mohinder touched his arm, seemingly breaking the spell. Sylar grinned nervously down at him. 

Mohinder held out his hand.


End file.
